


Perfect Miracle

by kasviel



Series: Perfect Paradise [2]
Category: Paradise Killer
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Spanking, Spanking, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:21:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28387692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kasviel/pseuds/kasviel
Summary: The second story in my "Perfect Paradise" series, based on the videogame "Paradise Killer". Please read "Perfect Corruption" first. This is an alternate universe (AU) sequel to the game, so please be aware that there are SPOILERS in the rest of this description and in the story itself. After the dissolution of Island 24, the peace of Perfect 25 is disrupted by an unprecedented event: a mere Citizen is blessed by the gods. This Citizen turns out to be Henry Division, and Doctor Doom Jazz is the one charged with seeing him through a miracle that Henry Division simply does not want. By the will of the gods, Paradise is destined to be changed forever.I have taken some liberties with the lore of Paradise Killer, so be aware that this story is not 100% canon-accurate.
Relationships: Doctor Doom Jazz/Henry Division
Series: Perfect Paradise [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2078328
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. Requiem for Island Sequence 24

“So this is how it ends, huh?”

The aurora crashed into the clouds above as the huge moon began to crumble. The neon colors bled hideously into the crimson sky above the Desolation Cell, so vivid that it burned his retinas. The roar of the waves made his ears bleed. The air was both cold enough to freeze and hot enough to scald. Fragments of reality floated upwards, as if all the world was being sucked up by the greedy inhalation of a god.

“Just fucking great. WHAT A SHOW!”

He did not know whether his voice was lost in the cacophony or his vocal cords had burned away. He could feel his gray skin cracking and melting. Small bits of his clothing were joining the upwards-raining bits of Paradise's detritus. Yet he kept his pure red eyes upon the horribly entrancing sky above, mouth slack in awe. Pain was an old familiar of his, and existential agony could not thrive in a mind blasted til only shreds of its ego remained. Only a small part of him panicked internally, railing against his looming dissolution.

 _No wonder they slaughter the Citizens before the end,_ he thought. _Well, it's one hell of a last spectacle to see. Best view in Paradise!_

He broke into a smile and laughed until his throat was burned away. He wondered at the last where his demon had gone, whether it was also coming apart or had escaped to some other damned corner of the cosmos. He hoped it was suffering as much as he was. The thought that it, too, was going up in smoke as its eyes melted and its ears bled was a small comfort as he underwent the same.

_Good fucking riddance to all of it._


	2. Despised Miracle

Island Sequence 25, otherwise known as “Perfect 25”, was complete. In the words of the deceased Syndicate Architect Carmelina Silence, who had created this Sequence, the Syndicate had “achieved perfection”. On the surface, this was certainly true: the districts were laid out in perfect symmetry and every building was the perfect blend of form and function. Even the air still smelled vaguely of newness: fresh paint, new leather and plastic, just-dried concrete, fresh cut stone. The Syndicate was settling in by shopping, perfecting their new homes and offices to their liking. The Citizens were bustling to and fro, working and maintaining the functionality of Paradise. Life continued according to the elegant design the gods laid out for this world, or so the Syndicate said. Yet snow was falling.

Doctor Doom Jazz was not one for politics or drama. He was content with his new clinic, and was waiting for a new boat to be built to his specifications. After the infamous slaughter of the old Council and the subsequent trial (and executions), Doom Jazz was glad to have always been on the outer fringes of Paradise. But even the aloof doctor heard things. He knew that this winter season was not a novelty, but due to the fact that there was a problem with the Reality Folding Drive, which powered the world and all its technology. To keep the cities from blackouts, the weather control systems were running at their lowest capacity, thus allowing the cold weather. The Syndicate's assertion that the early winter was for the purpose of enjoying a festive atmosphere was a lie.

Doom Jazz sighed as he walked along the beach. The waters were frigid beneath the falling snow, the sand was dusted white, and he was the only one on the sandy coast. He drew his coat more tightly around himself and lifted his bottle of whiskey to his lips. He hated the cold and he was worried about Perfect 25. Since the bloody conclusion of the trial, he wanted nothing more than to sink back into comfortable oblivion but his former carefree mood was not sticking. Nothing in Paradise felt quite right anymore, and he was no longer able to ignore the cracks in the system. He was moody and prone to inexplicable bouts of anger or depression. No matter how much he drank, he could not recapture his normal blithe selfishness.

Doom Jazz found himself sinking into the dark mood yet again. He chugged whiskey like a fiend, coughing a little when he lowered the bottle. As if his prayers had been answered, he spotted a likely distraction then: a figure lying face-down in the sand. Doom Jazz chuckled.

“Looks like I'm not the only one that's had one too many tonight,” he said to himself. “Oi! Hey! All right there?!”

The figure was not moving. _Definitely not all right,_ Doom Jazz thought. He started walking faster, heavy brows furrowed. The person might be injured. He prayed they were not dead; he had witnessed enough death on Island 24.

When he got close, Doom Jazz was certain the person was dead. He groaned, wondering why _he_ had to be the one to find the body. A murder so soon? Perfect 25 wasn't even weather-controlled yet!

“What's wrong with people?” Doom Jazz muttered.

He paced back and forth. Medical training kicking in, he knelt beside the figure. The person was totally naked, their olive skin pale and cold. Doom Jazz rolled them over and saw that it was a man. He frowned. Did he know this young man? He took his face in his gloved hands and turned it this way and that. The bowl cut was brown now, the skin no longer ashen gray, but … could it possibly be …

“Henry Division?”

Doom Jazz stroked the man's features with his gloved hand, wiping traces of snow away. Had Henry's body somehow been transported from Island 24 to Island 25? How could that happen to a mere Citizen? And why was he normal? The last Doom Jazz had seen of him, the man was practically a corpse, held together only by the demon possessing him.

Suddenly, a soft gasp escaped Henry's bluish lips. Doom Jazz's eyes went wide. He leaned his cheek close to Henry's lips. After a moment, he felt a soft, warm breath on his cheek.

“You're alive?” Doom Jazz asked. “Henry, you're alive? Henry? Henry! Hey, wake up. Wake up!”

He shook the man gently, tapped his cheek, but there was no response. Swearing, Doom Jazz removed his coat and wrapped it around the unconscious Henry. Then he took the slim young man into his mechanical arms and hoisted him up. As Henry's brown hair parted, Doom Jazz noted the top layer was streaked on either side with white. _Just like his father,_ Doom Jazz thought. He held Henry closer, hurrying towards the city. _Your son is alive, Eyes. It's impossible, but he's alive. I wonder what you'd think about that?_

#

Doom Jazz carried Henry all the way to his new clinic. Despite the name, the tall building was more of a hospital. Disease and injury were relatively rare in Paradise, but Doom Jazz never wanted for business. He treated both Citizens and Syndicate members, although the former were discouraged from independently seeking medical attention for anything but the most serious afflictions. On Island 24, he had done everything in his power to keep Henry's demon suppressed. He had watched the boy, now a man, suffer for ten years. A decade was not much time to the semi-immortal Syndicate members but Doom Jazz knew it must have felt like a lifetime to Henry. Since he was seventeen, the demon had violated his mind, body, and soul, leaving Henry a wreck of a man. Doom Jazz had often considered putting him out of his misery for good, although he never could bring himself to. Given all that had happened, he wondered if that had been the wrong call.

_Not that that matters now._

Doom Jazz brought Henry to his private office and lay him on the consultation cot there. He pulled his coat off the man and wrapped him in the cot's blanket. He fetched some more blankets and piled them atop Henry, then turned the heating up. He hung his coat up and drew a chair up beside the cot. After a while, Henry's lips and fingernails lost their bluish tinge. His breathing became deep and regular. Doom Jazz brushed his hair from his face, staring at him. The sigils burned into his body were gone. He lifted Henry's eyelids. Henry's eyes were dark brown, a deep liquid shade that Doom Jazz recognized immediately. His heart twisted a little and he smiled. _Those are Kiwami's eyes exactly. So, Henry really isn't possessed anymore. Well, if he isn't in danger, I guess it's time to call Love Dies._

Doom Jazz dialed up the “investigation freak” of Paradise, Lady Love Dies. He realized that he had not spoken to her very much since arriving on Perfect 25. Their friendship would survive the trial, but right now every time he saw her, he remembered her executing Akiko 14 and the Day Break couple. He did not blame her, he knew that it was her job, but it would be some time before those memories faded.

Doom Jazz met Love Dies at the door. His wariness of her returned, and she sensed it. There was a flicker of hurt in her eyes before she collected herself. When she spoke, it was in her curtly professional manner.

“What is this all about?” she asked. “You said that it was important? Paradise Psycho Unit important?”

“Not exactly,” Doom Jazz said. “But I think you'll be important to vetting this.”

“Vetting _what_?”

“I think we've got a genuine miracle on our hands, Love Dies.”

“What?” Love Dies asked in exasperation. “I don't like this, Doom Jazz. Just tell me what's going on!”

“Let me show you.”

“This better not be one of your perverted games or I swear, I'll—”

Lady Love Dies stopped talking when she saw the unconscious man in the bed. At first, she gave him little more than a glance. She did a double-take. Realization hit, she frowned in denial, and then she bent over the bed. She turned Henry's face this way and that, as Doom Jazz had done.

“Is that … No, it can't be.” Love Dies straightened up and turned on Doom Jazz. “What have you done?”

“Why are you trying to blame me for this?” Doom Jazz asked. “I was walking on the beach and I found him!”

“That's impossible, Doom Jazz,” Love Dies said. “I left him in the Desolation Cell.”

“You just left him? Shouldn't you have executed him?”

“Why bother?” Love Dies asked. She averted her eyes and lifted her head defiantly. “He would have died with Island 24, anyway. I didn't want … ”

Love Die's hand instinctively hovered above the gun holstered at her hip. Doom Jazz was surprised by her attitude. Had she felt sorry for Henry Division? Why else would she leave him to die on the Island rather than performing his execution herself?

“I thought that I was the last one off Island 24, but I left the car on Perfect 25 directly upon arriving,” Love Dies said. “What did you do, Doom Jazz? Did you drive back and take Henry out of the Desolation Cell? Bring him here? It's against the law to smuggle Citizens off-Island.”

“Listen to me, Love Dies!” Doom Jazz exclaimed. “You _were_ the last one off of Island 24, you can check all the logs! Do you really think I would risk my life to save one Citizen? After that bloody trial?”

There was a flicker of pain in Love Dies' eyes again. Doom Jazz was relieved to see it. He never assumed Lady Love Dies had lost a wink of sleep over the executions, but she was human after all—well, as human as any of the Syndicate could be, anyway.

Henry frowned and stirred in his cot. Doom Jazz and Love Dies were too busy talking to notice.

“Besides, even if I had brought Henry here, I could never have saved him from the possession,” Doom Jazz went on. “Look at him. He's no longer possessed. He was brought back and exorcised. Only the gods could have done something like that. I'm telling you, Love Dies, this is a miracle.”

“Citizens aren't entitled to miracles.”

“That's the line, but weren't all of us Syndicate little more than Citizens once?”

“In the so-called real world, yes, but that was ages ago,” Love Dies said. “You really think that Henry Division, out of all people, was saved by a miracle from the gods?”

“He is half-Syndicate. You're the one that found that out, aren't you?”

“That's true, but Syndicate members have fathered, and mothered, many bastards before,” Love Dies pointed out. “None have been blessed, certainly not like this. And Henry Division? Him? He illegally tried to commune with the gods and allowed demons into Paradise, thus corrupting Island 24. Just because he was innocent of murdering the Council doesn't mean that he's an innocent.”

“Who the hell _is_ innocent, Love Dies?” Doom Jazz said. “You can't argue with the facts, and the fact is that Henry Division is here, alive, whole, and no longer possessed.”

As if on cue, Henry stirred and groaned. They turned and went over to his bedside. Henry's face was screwed up in anguish and he was gripping the sheets tightly in his fists. His head turned back and forth on the pillow, sweat breaking out on his skin. He looked very young, Doom Jazz noted, hardly older than the seventeen years old he had been when he was possessed by a demon.

Henry cried out and thrashed around frantically. Doom Jazz held him down by the shoulders. Henry struggled and fought, arms lashing out. Doom Jazz was about to get a sedative when the young man's dark eyes shot open. He was panting and his eyes were searching blindly.

“Henry?” Doom Jazz gave him a light shake. “Hey, Henry. It's me, it's me.”

“D … Doctor?”

“Yes, that's right. Doctor Doom Jazz.”

“You … You … I … ” Henry's eyes focused on the doctor, began to clear. “I … I'm alive?”

“Yes!” Doom Jazz smiled. “Yes, you're—”

“ _Why the_ _ **fuck**_ _am I alive_?!”

Doom Jazz's smile froze. _Guess the attitude's still there, then._

“What the fuck is going on?!” Henry shouted, sitting up. He touched his face, hair, chest. “I'm not supposed to be alive! I died! I'm fucking dead!”

“Apparently not,” Doom Jazz said. “You—”

“I felt that fucking Island disintegrate!” Henry screamed. “Do you know what it feels like to have your soul peeled from your body by the infinite Void? To have your mind turn inside out on itself as every raw nerve burns with the fire of a thousand suns? DO YOU FUCKING KNOW WHAT THAT FEELS LIKE?!”

“Not exactly,” Doom Jazz said dryly. “I'm going to get you a sedative.”

“I DON'T NEED A SEDATIVE!” Henry roared. “I NEED TO FUCKING DIE!”

Love Dies took Doom Jazz's place as he hurried to the medicine cabinet. She put a hand on Henry's shoulder. He scowled furiously at her, reminding her of his nasty words during her investigation. Despite herself, a smile played on her lips. Henry Division was a shit but she had grown almost fond of him on Island 24.

“It's all right, Henry,” Love Dies said. “It's over. Island 24 is gone. You're on Perfect 25. It's … a miracle. It's a blessing of the gods.”

“What the _fuck_ kind of miracle is this?” Henry asked. “No, no, no, no! I'm supposed to be dead! Perfect 25? Are you fucking kidding me? If I stay here, the demons are going to get in, and then where is your fucking Perfect 25 going to be?”

“Relax, Henry,” Doom Jazz said. He held a mirror up in front of Henry's face. “Look. The demon is gone.”

Henry opened his mouth to go on complaining but stopped. He snatched the mirror and stared into it. He ran his fingers over his features, his untainted skin. For once, he was at a loss for words.

“You said that you were a good-looking guy once,” Love Dies remarked. “I suppose it wasn't a lie, was it?”

“He is cute,” Doom Jazz agreed.

Love Dies raised her eyebrows at Doom Jazz, who shrugged and winked. Henry's scowl returned. He threw the mirror across the room, where it shattered against the wall.

“NO!” he howled. “Fuck, no! I … I _did_ die! I know that I died. I felt myself die. The demon screamed inside my mind until my ears bled and my brain felt like it was shattering. I went up in flames but I could feel every part of myself … even after my soul was detached … and reality folded in upon itself for the last time, everything was … was _wrong_. The souls of the dead were still screaming, their memories sang hymns the stars will never understand. It was awful.”

Henry's voice broke and he buried his face in his hands. Doom Jazz ushered Love Dies out of the way and sat on the edge of the cot. He was about to sedate Henry but Love Dies put a hand on his shoulder.

“No, wait,” she said. “You want me to help vet this miracle, don't you? I need to hear what happened. Henry, is that the very last thing that you remember? Dying that way?”

Henry drew in a shuddering breath, scrubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands. Doom Jazz stroked his bare back with a gloved hand. _This poor lad has been through a lot. No wonder he wishes it was all over._

“No,” Henry said softly. “No. I remember one more thing, now. That fucking guy! He told me this would happen! I told him that I wasn't fucking going back! I told him! Why didn't he just let me die?”

“What man?” Love Dies asked.

“The man in the gold mask, with the tattoos on his chest,” Henry said. “Green eyes.”

“The Witness to the End?”

“Yeah, him, one of the many people you gunned down at the trial,” Henry said with an amused smirk. “I was dead and the pain had finally, fucking _finally_ ended. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, just the Void. Capital-'V'-Void. This was _the_ final fucking frontier, right? But I was still conscious. I had no body or anything, but somehow, I was _there_. I could feel the emptiness, you know? Not really feel but … feel. It was weird. Then I saw him, that man, Witness. I tried to tell him to fuck off, but I didn't have a mouth to speak with.”

“Now _that_ would be a miracle,” Love Dies said.

“Ha fucking ha,” Henry retorted. “I couldn't speak or move or do anything. I tried to think that guy away but I couldn't do that, either. He could think to me, though. I heard his thoughts clearly.”

“What did he say?” Love Dies asked.

“He didn't say anything! Are you fucking deaf? He _thought_ things at me.”

“All right, all right,” Love Dies said impatiently. “What did Witness _think_ at you?”

“That he was right, that the gods were displeased with Paradise,” Henry said. “He said—thought—that the Syndicate has strayed too far from the path laid out by Silent Goat. He thought that I would go deliver that message to Paradise because I was chosen for a great purpose. Great fucking purpose! I tried to block him out, block everything out, and the next thing I know I'm waking up here! A-fucking-live! Gods damn it!”

“Quite the opposite, actually,” Love Dies said. “Doom Jazz, you were right. This seems to be a genuine miracle. It won't be official until it's vetted by the Council, but Henry, welcome to the Syndicate.”

“What? _What_?” Henry asked shrilly. “I don't want to join the fucking Syndicate! I don't even want to be here! You can keep your fucking Perfect 25! I was supposed to die on Island 24!”

“And you did,” Love Dies said. “The gods blessed you and now you're here. No one will argue with the will of the gods, Henry. You're officially exonerated.”

“Fuck that!” Henry scoffed. He reached at Love Dies' gun. “You have to kill me! You fucking slaughtered half the people on trial, right? What's one more death? Come on! Shoot me!”

Love Dies put a hand on her gun and backed away from the cot. Henry made to lunge after her but Doom Jazz held him firmly in place. When the sheets slipped off, Henry realized that he was naked. He hastily pulled the sheets back up and stayed put. He gave Doom Jazz a sullen frown. Doom Jazz smoothed his hair back from his sweaty face, squeezed his shoulder comfortingly.

“No one is going to kill you, Henry,” he said. “You've been blessed by the gods.”

“Some fucking blessing!” Henry said furiously. “Exonerated? Blessed? I don't want to be here! Don't you guys fucking get that? I'm a Citizen! I-I-I don't deserve this, this, whatever the fuck it is! This has got to be against some law, right?”

“It's unprecedented, but it's not illegal,” Love Dies said. “As I said, no one is going to argue with the will of the gods, Henry. You're alive. I suggest you learn to deal with that.”

“I sUggEst yoU leArn to DeAl wIth tHaT,” Henry repeated mockingly.

“All right, good talk,” Love Dies said. “I had best go report this to the Council so that they can prepare the vetting procedure. I'll leave him to you, Doctor.”

Lady Love Dies made a fast exit. Doom Jazz could not blame her. He had forgotten how irritating Henry's bitching and moaning could be.

“Bitch!”

“Hey, watch your mouth.”

“You're a doctor, right?” Henry asked desperately, clutching Doom Jazz's sweater. “I bet you know all kinds of fucked up ways to kill people, right? You can kill me, can't you?”

“I am a doctor, and I've sworn to do no harm.”

“Letting me live _is_ doing fucking harm!” Henry snapped. “You've got to kill me! I don't belong here! I have to die! Come on, kill me! Inject me with poison or some shit! No one will care about me, I'm just another fucking Citizen! Come on! Do it!”

“Oh I am going to inject you, but not with poison.”

“You have to kill me! You fucking—hey!”

Doom Jazz grabbed Henry by the arm and pulled him onto his stomach. He pushed aside the blankets and plunged a syringe's needle into the man's bare bottom.

“What the fuck?!” Henry yelped in outrage. “Ow! You asshole!”

Doom Jazz removed the syringe and tossed it into the garbage can. He pressed a small plaster over the tiny bloody mark. For good measure, he gave Henry's opposite cheek a slap, a bit harder than he had intended.

“Watch your mouth.”

“Fuck you!”

Doom Jazz squeezed the man's bottom and Henry turned bright red. He brought his face very close to Henry's, their foreheads touching. Henry swallowed, his stomach tying itself in knots. He could smell the whiskey on the doctor's breath, see the glossiness of intoxication in his blue eyes. Henry recognized that smile, mischievous but sympathetic. Out of all the people in the Syndicate, only Doctor Doom Jazz had ever been kind to him. Even when he was in the throes of possession, Doom Jazz would hold him down carefully and medicate him until the torment ended. Henry began to feel a wave of calm as he looked into those eyes; he told himself it was only the tranquilizers kicking in.

“Behave yourself, Henry,” Doom Jazz told him. “And maybe when you wake up again, I'll get you some clothes.”

Doom Jazz patted his bottom and stood up. Henry lay back in bed, scrambling to cover himself with the sheets. He looked down at his hands again, marveling at his untainted skin. Untainted?

A flash of memory crashed through Henry's mind. He saw blood on his hands from his failed rituals. He remembered the sensation of his knuckles bursting as he beat on a fellow student, the wonderfully warm spray of someone else's blood splattering on his skin. He thought of the time he had ended up nearly burning down the 2nd Heaven convenience store and burning these fingers in the process, not caring because he was enraptured by the flames. He recalled these hands wrapping around his mother's neck—such a thin neck, so fragile, so pathetically weak. He remembered the demon smiling through his lips as the life was choked out of Rina Division.

“I need to die.”

Doom Jazz retrieved the bottle of whiskey from his coat pocket and uncorked the bottle. He took a long swig as he returned to Henry's bedside. Henry was calmer but still miserable. Doom Jazz ruffled his hair.

“Cheer up,” he said. “You're a damn miracle, kid. Blessed by the gods. Doesn't that make you happy at all?”

“Fuck no.”

“Why do you want to die so badly?” Doom Jazz asked. “You already died once, why would you want to do it again?”

“I don't deserve to live.”

“Who the hell does?”

“I killed my mother!” Henry blurted out. “I let the demons into fucking Island 24, I … I destroyed it! All those Citizens were slaughtered because of me! I may not have done everything the fucking Syndicate tried to frame me for, but I did enough! So don't act like I deserve this! I deserve to die!”

“Well, the gods thought otherwise, apparently.”

Henry gripped his head in both hands, fingers tugging his brown and white-streaked hair. Doom Jazz eased him down against the pillows, shushing him. Henry was fighting it but the sedatives were causing his eyelids to droop. He started to complain again and Doom Jazz took his hands into his own.

“I'm glad that you're alive, Henry,” Doom Jazz said. “I couldn't save your father. Now I have a chance to save you.”

“I don't want to be fucking saved,” Henry griped. “I don't deserve it.”

“Welcome to the Syndicate,” Doom Jazz said, lifting the bottle in a mock toast, “where no one deserves to live and yet we all just keep fucking going.”

“Hypocrite.”

“Hm?”

“You told me to watch my mouth.”

Henry yawned widely. His hands went limp in Doom Jazz's grip. Within minutes, he had fallen asleep. Doom Jazz ran a hand over the man's bowl cut and resumed his journey to the bottom of the bottle.

“Your son is alive, Eyes,” Doom Jazz said. “I don't know what you would think about that, but I'll take care of him. I don't want to see anyone else die senselessly.”

Doom Jazz took a long swig of the liquor.

“Getting sentimental,” he chuckled. “Maybe it's the holiday weather.”


	3. Daddy Issues (How Predictable)

Henry drifted dreamily through a haze of memories, losing each one every time he tried to focus on it. The demon must have taken him over again. He knew that he should fight it. He knew that he should do everything in his power to keep the demon from hurting people again. He tried to grope his way back to consciousness but exhaustion overwhelmed him. What was the use? He was imprisoned, the Syndicate wouldn't let him do any harm. Might as well let the demon do what he wanted with his body, it was ruined now anyway. What was the point of fighting? He was still nothing more than an insignificant Citizen, a nobody. Burning it all down was as close to being a real person as he had ever come. People had all sorts of theories about what made a human being a human being, but Henry knew the truth: people gained humanity through degrees of power.

Oblivion began to fade and Henry found himself fighting to stay wrapped within its blissful emptiness. Eventually, his consciousness tumbled back into his body with a jolt that made him jump. He was surprised to find himself alone in his own skin: there was no sign of the demon's presence. Henry prodded and probed, as one would with a missing tooth. No alien voice. No struggle to recover control of his own muscles. He was alone with himself.

Henry felt warm blankets layered over his otherwise bare skin. The pillow beneath his head was soft. This could not be the jail, he realized. Had it all been a nightmare? Perhaps he was back home and his mother, Rina, was still alive. That had never been such a great life but he would do anything to bring it back.

Footsteps. The sound of a door shutting. Then the smell of fresh food. Henry's stomach growled, hunger sharpening his awareness. He pushed himself up on his elbows, looking around in confusion. He was wrapped up on a small cot in the corner of an office. Judging by the medicine cabinets and rolling screen at the foot of the bed, it seemed to be a doctor's office.

“Morning, Henry.”

Henry looked up to find Doctor Doom Jazz smiling at him on the other side of the room as he set brown paper bags down on his desk. All at once, memories assaulted Henry: dying with Island 24, talking to Witness to the End, and then waking up in this place to find Lady Love Dies and Doctor Doom Jazz puzzling casually over him. He licked his dry lips, hunger warring with emotional frustration.

“I got breakfast.”

“I'd prefer some fucking clothes.”

Doctor Doom Jazz lifted up a plastic bag.

“Can you give them to me?”

“What's the magic word?”

“Oh, sure, why not?” Henry said. “I mean, all that happened last time that I said some magic words was that demons came and corrupted the entire fucking Island.”

“Just promise me you'll behave yourself, Henry.”

“Not unless you promise to stop treating me like a fucking kid!”

Doom Jazz grinned, a flash of blunt white teeth. He put the bag of clothing into his desk drawer and locked it. He busied himself removing food containers out of the paper bags while Henry went into a furious tirade. Doom Jazz put some things on a plate and brought it over to Henry. Henry lifted it to throw it at him but his stomach would not let him. Sulking, he ripped open the bag of plastic utensils and poked at his food viciously. Doom Jazz sat at his desk to eat his own meal, sipping coffee.

“You're a fucking asshole,” Henry grumbled. “You and Love Dies. You just left me to die on Island 24 and now you're acting like my life is so important. Fucking hypocrites.”

“You are important,” Doom Jazz said. “You were exorcised and brought back to life by the gods.”

“Silent Goat.”

“Hm?” Doom Jazz gave Henry a strange look. “Silent Goat is dead, you know.”

“I don't know.” Henry chewed with a thoughtful frown. “Forget it. I don't know. I don't fucking care, either. Paradise, the Syndicate, the gods, it's all bullshit!”

“You're alive because of that bullshit,” Doom Jazz said. “Have some respect.”

Henry popped a forkful of eggs into his mouth. Doom Jazz could see his desire to go on arguing losing to his need to eat. Henry stopped glaring and concentrated on his food. He shoved another forkful into his mouth, chewing furiously.

“Good?”

“Anything would taste good after ten fucking years.” Henry glanced sheepishly over at the doctor. “But yeah, it's good.”

Doom Jazz smiled at him. Henry's frown faded. During the ten years of his possession, it had been impossible for him to eat solid food without the demon regurgitating it—usually into someone's face. Doom Jazz had kept him on intravenous nutrition during those years, although it hardly mattered; the demon would have kept Henry's body going even if he had been starved. Doom Jazz shook the memories out of his head before he lost his appetite.

It was difficult to want to die in the light of morning, with a full stomach and warm bed. Henry ate two plates of food. If he did die, at least he could go after a good meal. He watched as Doom Jazz forced himself to get through a plate and made a pot of coffee to supplement the cup he'd brought from the store. Henry could tell he was nursing a hangover. He glanced at the trash can and noted the empty bottle of whiskey.

“Can I get dressed now?” Henry asked. “I'm not fond of going around half-naked like you are.”

“Do I look half-naked to you?”

“You used to be. What's up with the sweater and gloves?”

“We're having an early holiday to celebrate Perfect 25's completion.”

“You fucking kidding me?” Henry said flatly. “You Syndicate assholes celebrate with cold weather?”

“The snow's pretty, right?” Doom Jazz rubbed a hand over his buzzed hair. “Anyway, I'm wearing the gloves because the metal gets too cold during this weather for my patients' comfort. Now. If I give you your clothes, will you at least try to stop calling all of us in the Syndicate 'assholes'?”

“You _are_ a—”

Doom Jazz pressed one gloved hand over Henry's mouth. The scent of leather filled Henry's nose. Beneath the padding, he could feel the hard metal of Doom Jazz's prosthetics.

“You're Syndicate now, too,” Doom Jazz said. “Just like your father. Don't forget that.”

Doom Jazz released him and went to fetch the bag of clothes.

“Guess I'll fit right in, then,” Henry said. “I never denied that _I'm_ an asshole. And so was my damned father.”

Henry saw Doom Jazz's hand clench in a fist, then relax. There was a hard glint in his eyes when he brought the bag of clothes over. Henry pushed the sheets aside, holding the bag in front of himself. Doom Jazz pointed to the bathroom door. The moment he passed him, Doom Jazz gave his bottom a stinging swat.

“Don't badmouth Eyes Kiwami to me,” Doom Jazz said. “He was my friend. Understand?”

Henry faced him, ready to argue. The look on Doom Jazz's face convinced him to keep his mouth shut. He walked backwards until he was locked into the bathroom. He tossed the bag of clothes on the floor and sighed. Not knowing what else to do, he decided to take a shower.

#

Henry emerged from the bathroom wary but calm. Doom Jazz was seated at his desk, typing on a computer. Henry sat on the chair opposite the desk, watching him.

“Like the clothes?”

“Hm.” Henry plucked at the sleeve of his blue blazer, considered his blue jeans and sneakers. “Kind of expensive for a Citizen, aren't they?”

“I thought you'd want to wear nice things after spending ten years in a prison uniform,” Doom Jazz said. “Besides, you're practically Syndicate now.”

“I don't want to—”

“You sound exactly four years old when you whine like that, you know.”

Henry crossed his arms and slumped in his chair. Doom Jazz shook his head, smirking. The first time that he had ever met Henry Division, he had been a sullen teenager that slumped in his chair in that exact same fashion. The memory of that day still made Doom Jazz uncharacteristically guilty and sad.

“And now you look like you're in the principal's office,” he said. “Relax, Henry. Just enjoy being alive, you don't have to be so angry. I took your blood last night while you slept, ran some tests. You're demon-free, healthy, completely normal.”

“I was never normal.”

“You were a brat, I'll give you that,” Doom Jazz said. “I remember treating your burns after you were arrested for trying to burn down the convenience store. But don't forget everything that came out during the trial, Henry. Yuri Night gave you the Grimoire of Majidah. He used you. Carmelina Silence used you. You were just a pawn in their sick plans. I don't blame you.”

“That prick gave me the book, but I chose to use the spells in it,” Henry said. “I wanted to burn it all down … that's all I ever wanted. And I did it. I don't know if I'm even sorry. You really think someone like that deserves this fucking 'miracle'?”

“It's not about whether you deserve it or not,” Doom Jazz said. “You're here. You're blessed. All you can do is live your new life.”

Henry stood up and paced restlessly. He stopped at the office windows, pulling up the blinds. Perfect 25 sprawled out beneath his eyes, pristine beneath a blanket of snow. He whistled.

“It really is beautiful,” he said. “Guess that Silence bitch knew what she was doing. A brand-new Paradise, huh? And a whole new batch of kidnapped Citizens worshiping gods that only bless the Syndicate. Fucking fantastic.”

“Do you ever stop complaining?”

“I can't just turn a blind eye the way you assholes do!” Henry said. “I _was_ a Citizen! I _am_ a Citizen! The Syndicate used me the way they use all of us! The way _you_ Syndicate _assholes_ use the Citizens, like we're worthless trash! And you want me to be someone like that? Someone like my asshole father?”

Doom Jazz looked up at him with a stern expression. Henry bit his bottom lip. No matter how much he had ever annoyed the doctor, he had never seen that look before. He swallowed but then his temper flared. He had never been the type to be cowed by authority.

“What? He _was_ an asshole,” Henry said. “Didn't that trial make it clear? That Eyes Kiwami guy, my father, he didn't just abandon me, right? That Dio-non-na-whatever-the-fuck! Both his bastard kids died on Island 24 and it was his fault. I almost feel better about it, knowing I wasn't the only one.”

Doom Jazz stood. Henry turned his face to the window, set on ignoring the doctor. He refused to be afraid of any of the Syndicate members. Even if Doom Jazz wasn't the worst of them, they were all evil.

“I don't care if he was your friend,” Henry went on. “That Kiwami guy was a shit father. Just another selfish Syndicate ass—”

Doom Jazz grabbed Henry by the shoulders and slammed him against the window. Henry scowled up at him defiantly. The world outside the window was incongruously quiet, snow falling mistily onto the new concrete paradise.

“I was there, Henry,” Doom Jazz said. “It wasn't easy for me to watch Love Dies destroy my best friend's character, all right? I know that he hurt you and left his other son in Carmelina's hands. I know that he wasn't perfect. But that doesn't change what he did for me or the fact that he was my friend. He paid for what he did, Henry. He killed himself. He was as semi-immortal as any Syndicate member, but in the end, he chose to end his existence. And I couldn't save him. You can hate him all that you want to, but don't insult him in front of me. All right?”

“No, not 'all right', Mr. Pink Mohawk,” Henry shot back. “Eyes Kiwami was. an. asshole.”

Doom Jazz's grip tightened on his shoulders. Henry was too enraged to mind the pain.

“It's easy for you to love your goddamned friend!” Henry said. “He didn't leave _you_ behind, right? He never abandoned _you_! But I … I grew up alone! My mother and I were left all alone in those stinking fucking Citizen apartments! While he did whatever the fuck you Syndicate _assholes_ do, whatever the fuck he wanted to!”

“Officially, being with a Citizen is illegal for Syndicate members,” Doom Jazz said. “He sent money.”

“Fuck the money!” Henry screamed. “I wanted a father!”

Doom Jazz's face softened. He ran a hand over Henry's lank hair and then pulled him to his chest. Shocked, Henry's eyes went round. No warmth came off the prosthetic arms but he felt heat beneath the sweater, the doctor's heart beating against his cheek through the soft fabric. Tears pricked his eyes and he fought them back.

“L-let me go!” he protested. “Get the fuck off me! Stop it! Let me go!”

“It's all right,” Doom Jazz said. “I know Eyes hurt you, and I'm sorry. All right? What else can I say? I'm sorry he did that to you.”

Henry ducked out from his robotic hug and stormed across the room. He swiped his eyes with his hands and sank down onto the cot. _Sulking again,_ Doom Jazz thought. _He really is still a sullen teenager, mentally. Wonderful._

“Let's forget the past for now, Henry,” Doom Jazz said. “The Council should be calling me soon. They'll want to see you to vet the miracle.”

“Miracle,” Henry scoffed. “Some fucking miracle. The gods can shove this miracle right up their—”

“After it's confirmed, you'll be formally inducted into the Syndicate,” Doom Jazz said. “Don't tell me that you never dreamed about being in the Syndicate? Why else would you mess around with celestial communication?”

“I told you, because I wanted to burn the whole fucking thing down.”

“I don't think it was only that,” Doom Jazz said. “You also had a talent for it. You could be of use to the Syndicate. Who knows? You might even end up on the Council someday.”

“Like my fucking father?”

Doom Jazz dragged a chair over beside the cot and sat down on it, backwards. Henry drew his legs up onto the cot, hugging his knees; the gesture was simultaneously defensive and insecure.

“Listen, all you've ever done is bitch about the unfairness of the system,” Doom Jazz said. “Ever consider that now you have a chance to try to change it?”

“I don't give a shit anymore,” Henry sighed. “I just want it to be over. I want it all to be fucking over already. I want to die, Doom Jazz. I deserve to die.”

“You're not going to die.”

Henry rubbed his face and hung his head. Doom Jazz sat with him in silence. Henry climbed down from the cot to escape his scrutinizing gaze. He walked around the office again. Then his eyes fell on a tray of medical equipment, left out to be sterilized. He glanced back at Doom Jazz. He had returned to his desk and was on the computer again.

“Well as long as I'm alive, I better get the human stuff out of the way,” Henry said. “Need the bathroom?”

“Nah, go on.”

Henry hesitated, staring at Doom Jazz. He really wasn't as bad as the rest of the Syndicate. Love Dies wasn't so awful, either. But he could never be a part of their world. He did not want to become so callous and uncaring. He did not want to become a monster again, and he knew that he could not trust himself. If he had managed to destroy Island 24 as a Citizen, there was no telling what he might do with the freedom allowed to Syndicate members.

Henry went into the bathroom, shut and locked the door behind him. He removed the scalpel from his pocket. Tears burned his eyes and he let them fall.

“This isn't my fault,” he murmured. “You, you fucking gods, you're making me do this. You should have just left me, left me in the Void. I'm not … I'm not supposed to be here. I got everyone on Island 24 killed, I … I killed … mom … I can't live when they're all dead. It's too fucked up.”

Henry took off the blazer and hung it on an empty towel hook. He rolled up his sleeves. Standing before the sink, he looked at his face for the last time. He had missed his human face during the years the demon had spent wrecking his body. He was good-looking, his body was fit and attractive. He hardly looked older than seventeen, now that the demon's damage was undone. He could have some fun, being young, handsome, and a member of the Syndicate.

_Fun like my father had? Fucking whoever I want, letting them deal with the consequences? I would rather die. I've done enough._

Henry opened the medicine cabinet and found a bottle of aspirin. The scalpel and the aspirin should be enough. He was not looking forward to it but he knew that he had to end it all now. He had taken so much more pain in his lifetime, this should be nothing. Death was nothing at all, really, life was the problem. He would not miss it.

#

Doom Jazz was just thinking that Henry was taking quite a while in the bathroom when he heard a crash. He blew out a sigh, wondering what trouble the man was causing now. He got up and went to knock on the bathroom door.

“All right in there?”

“F-fine! Ah—fine! Go away!”

Henry did not sound fine. It was true that eating for the first time in ten years might have upset his stomach, but Doom Jazz did not like the quiver in Henry's voice. He was trying to decide what to do when a faint red line seeped out from beneath the door. Blood.

“Damn it, Henry!”

Doom Jazz used his prosthetic shoulder to bash the door. After a few more hits, the door crashed open. Henry was sitting on the floor, blood flowing freely from his wrist. A bottle of aspirin lay open on the sink. He was trying to open his opposite arm with a scalpel.

Doom Jazz rushed to Henry, effortlessly prying the scalpel from his hand. Henry shouted and cursed and hit at him. Doom Jazz ignored him, hoisting him to his feet. He dragged him to the office and forced him onto the cot. When Henry did not calm down, he pulled out the restraints from the cot's underside. He strapped Henry down by the arms and legs.

“Don't act like you care! Don't act like you fucking care!” Henry screamed, near hysterics. “Just let me die! Just let me fucking die already! Damn you! Gods-damn you, you son-of-a-bitch! You have no right to do this! Just let me die!”

 _I really don't need this today,_ Doom Jazz thought sourly. _My head is fucking killing me and this little shit won't shut up about dying. What the hell did I do to deserve this?_

Doom Jazz cleaned the wound on Henry's arm, stitched it up, and bandaged it. Henry hurled very loud, very lewd insults at him the entire time. When Doom Jazz was finished, he sat on the edge of the cot glaring at Henry.

“It's my life,” Henry seethed. “You had no right to save it! You left me to die, all of you! Don't you dare fucking interfere now! You, your Council, and your gods can all fuck off! I'm supposed to be dead and I _**am**_ going to die! The moment you untie me, I swear, I'm going to kill myself.”

“Oh, are you?”

“Yeah! I am!”

“It'll have to be the second thing you do, then.”

Doom Jazz began to unstrap Henry's restraints. Henry sat up, eyeing him skeptically.

“Fuck are you talking about?” he asked. “What do you mean, the 'second thing'?”

“After taking your medicine.”

Before he understood what was happening, Henry was lifted and pulled over the doctor's knees. Doom Jazz unzipped the fly of his new jeans and tugged them down. His underwear followed. Henry's face flushed hot red as he began to understand what Doom Jazz was planning. His focus abruptly shifted from ending his life to preserving his dignity.

“You can't do this! Put me down! You fucking freak! I'm not a child! Let me fucking go!”

Doom Jazz did not let him go. He held Henry down with one arm and raised his other. As Henry kicked and pounded his fists on the bed, he brought it down directly on Henry's fleshy buttocks. Even with the padded leather gloves, the smack was hard enough to leave a burning crimson handprint.

“Ow! That fucking hurt!”

“Good. All I've done is try to help you and you've been screaming profanity at me all fucking morning while I can't get rid of this gods-damned hangover,” Doom Jazz scolded. “And then you go and try to kill yourself in my bathroom. Damn right, it hurts. I'm punishing you, Henry.”

“You can't do this!” Henry exclaimed. “Ow! I'm twenty-seven years old! I'm not a—aow—not a fucking child! Get off of me!”

Doom Jazz ignored him, furthering Henry's fury. He tried to squirm away but there was no fighting Doom Jazz's grasp. Doom Jazz hoisted one leg up on a chair, lifting Henry's buttocks up humiliatingly. Henry kicked at him until Doom Jazz tied his legs down with the cot's restraints. His round target now unobstructed, Doom Jazz settled down to give the troublesome man a good, hard spanking.

“You bastard,” Henry fumed. “You fucking bastard! How _dare_ you!”

Doom Jazz gave a small laugh. Henry felt the doctor's free hand grip his hip tightly, leather-clad metal fingers rubbing his skin. Then he smacked his other palm down squarely on Henry's backside. Henry was burning with humiliation and pain. He glanced down at the bandages on his wrist and his eyes watered.

 _I should have done it._ Henry squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head. _If I hadn't hesitated, Doom Jazz wouldn't have gotten to me in time. I was walking around, trying to work up the courage to open my other wrist, and I tripped on that damned trash can. I knew it was there. Did I do it on purpose? Did I want him to find me, to stop me? I deserve to die, I know that I do. But I don't want to die._

_Goddamn it!_

_I don't want to die._

Henry hated himself for it but he could not keep from bursting into tears. He buried his face in his arms, sobbing. Doom Jazz released him but he did not try to escape. He felt a hand ruffle his hair, although the doctor did not cease spanking him.

“It hurts,” he whined. “Th-this hurts.”

“Not very tough without your demon, eh?” Doom Jazz remarked. “No, you're just a boy again, really. Just a sullen, angry little boy.”

Doom Jazz gave him a few last smacks, then lifted him up. Henry crumbled and the doctor held him close. The man's wailing sobs did nothing good for Doom Jazz's headache but he figured Henry needed to cry it all out. He stroked his back as Henry cried into his shirt.

“I won't let you die, Henry,” he said. “Do you hear me? Hey. Look at me.”

Doom Jazz tilted Henry's tear-stained face up to his own by the chin. Fresh tears welled in the young man's large, dark eyes, and spilled down his face. His mouth was turned down, bottom lip pouting. Doom Jazz found him to be immensely adorable, now that the attitude had been smacked out of him.

“I am not going to let you die,” Doom Jazz repeated. “I refuse to lose you the way I lost Eyes.”

“You don't owe me anything,” Henry said. “I never even knew my … my father. And he didn't care about me, anyway.”

“I don't know whether he did or didn't,” Doom Jazz admitted. “But _I_ care about you, Henry.”

“Why?”

“Dunno,” Doom Jazz admitted. “Maybe I just need someone to save right now. You're not the only one in Paradise that feels like burning it all down sometimes, you know, Henry.”

“But I _did_ burn it all down, on Island 24,” Henry said. “I'm not … I'm not a good person.”

“Your father did some terrible things, too, as you keep reminding me,” Doom Jazz said. “I still loved him as a friend.”

“Is that why you're doing this? For him?”

“No, not entirely,” Doom Jazz said. “I always felt sorry for you, Henry. You know that, don't you?”

“I don't know. You seemed all right, the few times we met,” Henry said. “I mean, for a Syndicate asshole.”

“Heyyy, watch your mouth.”

Doom Jazz lightly spanked his bottom. Henry laughed shakily. He curled into the man's arms and chest. His face was still burning, but with more emotions than embarrassment and outrage. He sniffled, wiping his eyes, and looked up at Doom Jazz. The doctor smiled down at him with genuine kindness. Henry reached up shyly and took his face into his hands.

“Henry—”

Henry rushed into a kiss. It was childish, little more than a crush of his lips against Doom Jazz's. Doom Jazz chuckled, licking his bottom lip when Henry pulled away. His mouth tasted of salty tears.

“What are you doing, Henry?”

“S-sorry. I'm sorry,” he said awkwardly. “I just … I mean, I got daddy issues, right?”

“Turned you on, did it? You're just confused,” Doom Jazz said. “You've been through a lot, Henry. Just take it easy, all right?”

“Mm hm.”

But Henry stayed in place on his lap, clinging to him. He had not even pulled his pants and briefs back up. Doom Jazz had not meant for the spanking to be erotic, he simply wanted the man to shut his big mouth. Now, his eyes were drawn to Henry's reddened bottom, then to his moist lips. The sheer need in Henry's dark eyes drew him to bend his face closer. He stroked Henry's face, wishing he could feel his flushed skin, and brought their lips together. Henry's arms encircled his neck and he kissed him back eagerly.

The phone on Doom Jazz's desk rang obnoxiously. Doom Jazz pulled out of the kiss.

“No, no, don't,” Henry pleaded. “Forget it.”

“It's probably Love Dies about the Council,” Doom Jazz said. “I have to answer it.”

“Nooooo,” Henry groaned as he was unceremoniously dumped onto the cot. “Awww shit. Come on.”

Henry pulled his briefs and jeans up, rubbing his bottom. He _was_ confused. He searched for his anger but it was nowhere to be found. Even his misery was dissipating. He wanted to be held again. He felt lightheaded and giddy. He wondered if the blood loss had something to do with it.

“We're due at the Council Building this evening,” Doom Jazz said upon hanging up. “The Council will want to vet the miracle.”

“And what is that? Something like a trial?” Henry asked. “I wonder if it'll be as fun as the last one?”

Doom Jazz gave him a look. Henry did not apologize. He climbed off the cot and went around the desk. He sat on Doom Jazz's lap. Doom Jazz frowned at the bold intrusion but allowed it. He wondered what the hell he was getting into now.

“It will be a simplified kind of trial,” Doom Jazz said. “There shouldn't be anything to worry about. You may be a Citizen, but I don't think anyone can deny that your being resurrected and exorcised is a miracle. Perfect 25 doesn't even have a new exorcist yet, no one could have exorcised you. Even if someone had, your body would have fallen apart without divine intervention. Even the Council won't be able to deny that.”

“But they technically could deny it, right?”

“Technically.”

“And what would happen then?”

“You would probably be executed, since it's illegal for Citizens to be smuggled from one Island to another,” Doom Jazz said. He swatted Henry. “Don't get any ideas. I won't let that happen.”

“Hey, you and my father, you weren't … you know … fucking? Were you?”

“You ask me that _after_ kissing me?” Doom Jazz said. “No, Henry, we were just friends. I thought that we were best friends, but now I'm not so sure.”

“Oh yeah?”

“It was my fault,” Doom Jazz said. “I always told Eyes that I hate politics. I'm a doctor, all I ever wanted was to help people. I'm not that fond of the Syndicate, it was a refuge to escape to and I've been stuck in it ever since. Believe it or not, some of us don't enjoy the Citizen slaughters, the class system, or any of it. Eyes didn't like it.”

“Sure took advantage of it, though.”

“I don't know,” Doom Jazz said. “All I know is that I never let anyone talk to me about politics or the Council, not even Eyes. I thought that he understood, but … he must have had some pain, deep down. Two sons that he wasn't allowed to acknowledge, your possession and Rina's death, what happened to Dainonigate, Carmelina's betrayal … I don't think that he was the unfeeling asshole that you think, Henry. In the end, it must have been his guilt that drove him to suicide.”

“Did he even kill himself?” Henry asked. “How do we know that that Carmelina bitch didn't off him to shut him up?”

“No. It was a definite suicide. I did the autopsy myself.”

“Gruesome,” Henry said. “You really think he killed himself because he felt guilty?”

“I know that he did,” Doom Jazz said. “He made a lot of mistakes, Henry. And I let him shoulder the burden of those mistakes alone. I couldn't be bothered, could I? Not for Eyes, not for Akiko 14, not for any fucking one. Well, now neither of them is here to bother me, are they?”

“You got me instead,” Henry said. “Karma's a bitch, huh?”

Doom Jazz laughed and kissed the man's cheek.

“Well, you're not so bad,” he said. “Just needed a good spanking, eh? Someone to play daddy for you? Hm?”

Henry did not know what he wanted or needed. He still thought that he deserved to die. For now, however, he was too exhausted to stress about it. He was happy in Doom Jazz's arms, the doctor's lips pressing against his neck, then his mouth. He curled up on his lap and let his eyes fall shut.

Doom Jazz cradled Henry until he fell asleep. He decided to leave him there. Doom Jazz had been uncharacteristically solitary since coming to Perfect 25. He told himself that he was waiting to get the privacy of a new boat, but he knew this was a lie. The truth was that after losing Akiko 14, he was in no mood for his usual cheap hookups.

 _I've not been looking for anyone to care about, either,_ Doom Jazz thought. He sighed, looking down at Henry. He was sleeping quite peacefully on his lap, one hand still clutching his shirt. _Is this a mistake? He's already suicidal … like his father, ironically. It would be best if I ignored him altogether, locked him up in the psych ward and left him there. I don't think I can take losing someone else. If I fall in love with him and the little shit kills himself, I don't know what I'll do. I'm already …_

_No. No, I can't possibly go on living if I assume everyone I care about is going to die. Look at him, he's practically begging to be saved, he always has been. He doesn't want to die, not really. I can save him. At the very least, I can keep him alive. I can help him this time. I can at least do that._

#

Henry woke up late that afternoon. He was lying in the cot again, undressed save for his briefs. His bandaged wrist ached and his bottom was sore. He groaned, rolled onto his side, and tried to go back to sleep. He was nearing success when the sheets were pulled off. He squinted up to find Doctor Doom Jazz smirking down at him.

“Oh fuck oooofffff,” Henry yawned.

“No. We're due at the Council Building soon. You'd best get up and get dressed—again.” Doom Jazz lifted Henry up by the arm. “You'd better not bleed all over this outfit, understand?”

“Lesson learned,” Henry grumbled. “Get your finger out of my fucking face!”

Doom Jazz swatted him as he ushered him to the bathroom. The door had been replaced but the lock had not. Henry shut himself in, looked around. The blood was cleaned from the floor, the medicine cabinet was completely empty, and there was not a single sharp object to be found. Even the mirror had been replaced by reflective safety plastic; Henry rapped on it several times and could tell that it would not break. _Fucking Syndicate gets service fast, I guess. Of course they do. Shit._

Henry turned his back on the mirror, tugged his briefs down. Surely enough, the spanking had left his bottom mottled with bruises. The sight stirred both humiliation and arousal. _How predictable,_ he thought, frowning at himself. _Doom Jazz played me. He's always known about my daddy issues and he used them against me. Now I'm too confused to make sense of any of this, let alone plan my demise. My mind is all fucked up. It's almost as bad as when I was possessed._

Henry used the toilet, washed his hands, splashed cold water on his face. He felt better once he was dressed in fresh clothes. Still, he found it impossible to think straight. He had the feeling that he had dreamed of something important, but he could not recall his dream. Looking into his reflection's eyes, he felt a bit disturbed. The idea that someone—some _thing_ —else was looking out through his gaze set his teeth on edge. Too anxious to be alone, he left the bathroom.

Doom Jazz was relaxing in his office chair, eyeing a bottle of whiskey on his desk. He shut it away in the desk's cabinet upon seeing Henry. Henry made his way over to the desk, sat on it. He stared down at Doom Jazz, pondering the doctor. Doom Jazz did not look comfortable with the scrutiny. After a few minutes, he pulled Henry off his desk and onto his lap.

“Ow!”

“Still sore?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Henry hissed. “Why the hell did you do that? I'm not a kid.”

“Shouldn't act like one, then,” Doom Jazz said. “You've had that coming for years and you know it.”

“But—”

“Eyes slit his wrists,” Doom Jazz said tightly. “Did you know that?”

Henry shook his head. He looked down at his bandaged wrist. Doom Jazz reached around him to fetch the bottle from the desk. He poured two fingers into a glass and took a sip.

“You look like him,” Doom Jazz went on. “Younger, more boyish, but you have the same tones of hair, the same eyes—especially the same dark eyes. Seeing you bleeding in that white bathroom, it was like seeing Eyes on my autopsy table all over again. After that, after the trial, losing so much …You're a selfish little brat, putting me through that.”

“Well excuse me for being so miserable I literally want to die.”

“There's been enough death, Henry,” Doom Jazz said wearily. “I don't care what you want, I'm not going to let you die.”

Henry opened his mouth and the doctor tipped his glass to it. Henry involuntarily gulped whiskey and coughed. Doom Jazz laughed, sharing the whiskey with a kiss. As the liquor warmed him, Henry's mind turned back to his dreams. He had been in the Void again, but for the first time he realized that it was not empty. Unseen forces writhed and squirmed in the darkness, stars lived and died, planets whirled their way towards their ultimate ends. The gods were out there, their power and will beaming into the universe more strongly than all the rays of starlight. Henry remembered now … he had had just a glimpse of that light …

_'You have been chosen, as I was so long ago, for a great purpose. Perfect 25 is the final Paradise … '_

Henry screwed his eyes shut, trying to block out the memory. He did not want to be a part of the profound crap Witness had spoken of. He nestled as close to Doom Jazz as he could, kissing him fervently.

_'Take these gifts of our lord, Silent Goat, and return to Paradise … '_

Henry bowed his head out of the kiss, Doom Jazz's lips slipping to his nose, forehead. His head was fuzzy again.

“Are you all right?” Doom Jazz asked. “Henry?”

“Still a little tired,” Henry lied. “I'll be fine.”

“That's good. We should get going. I don't know how the new Council feels about lateness but it's best not to chance it.”

Henry climbed off of Doom Jazz's lap. He rubbed his temples hard, trying to focus. A deep pang of sorrow struck his heart. _Nothing has changed. I thought that I might be whole again. Stupid. Being used by the gods isn't any different than being used by the demons. I can't be a puppet again. I can't go through that. I would rather die. I wish I could be happy here with this guy, forever, even if it did mean being a part of the damned Syndicate, but I can't. I can't._

Henry was quiet as he straightened his clothes. He put on a coat and scarf Doom Jazz had bought him, then slipped on new high-top sneakers. Doom Jazz put a hand on his shoulder as they exited but Henry drew away from the affection. He shoved his hands in his coat pockets and stared at the floor. Doom Jazz left him to his thoughts.

Henry could not help but look around curiously when they exited the clinic building. He tilted his head back to stare up at the gleaming skyscrapers, draped in greenery and lights for the holiday season. Snow was falling lightly upon the laughing, carefree crowds. Henry shuddered.

“Cold?”

“No, nauseous,” Henry said. “Every time I was ever brought to Syndicate territory, it was because I was arrested for some bullshit. I could never feel at ease in this place, even if it is nicer than Island 24.”

“I'm not very fond of the city, either, truth be told,” Doom Jazz admitted. “That's why I can't wait to get my new boat.”

“They're just building you a boat, huh?”

“Syndicate veterans know to always keep an end-of-Island fund,” Doom Jazz said. “I had enough Blood Crystals to commission a new vessel, even without the insurance from my last one. Not that I won't miss her, she was a good little ship.”

“I can't swim,” Henry said. “I'd probably just drown.”

“Can't drown,” Doom Jazz said. “It isn't easy for Syndicate members to die in Paradise, remember? Even if I hadn't stopped you, do you really think that you could have opened both your wrists?”

“My father did.”

“Your father was a Council member and had one of the strongest wills of anyone on the old Council,” Doom Jazz said. “You've always been talented at celestial communication, but your will isn't there yet. The wound I bandaged wasn't deep enough to bleed you out. Do you really think that you could have opened your other wrist? How did you feel?”

Henry stopped to stare at a window display of religious statues and holographic foil trees. Lights blinked on and off, reflecting off the prismatic ornaments. The rainbow display was beautiful. Henry stared up at a goat head-shaped tree topper.

“I felt them,” Henry said, nodding at the smooth purplish goat head. “The gods. It was like being possessed but without the, you know, burning from the inside out and the will to destroy everything. But I felt another will overpowering my own. I thought that I had cut deep enough, but … And then I lost control of my legs, I stumbled around. That's why you heard the trash can crash on the floor.”

Doom Jazz put an arm around his shoulder and led him on. Henry swallowed down a lump in his throat. If he was being manipulated, who was to say that Doom Jazz wasn't as well? Everything the doctor seemed to feel for him could be just another deception of the gods.

“You should have known a locked door couldn't stop someone with metal guns like these,” Doom Jazz said, patting his own shoulder. “I had to pay to have that door fixed and the bathroom mirror replaced, you know.”

“Sorry.”

Doom Jazz raised his eyebrows.

“I mean … fuck off.”

“Are you ill?” Doom Jazz asked. “You're acting strange.”

“I'm just tired.”

“If you're worried about the vetting trial, don't be,” Doom Jazz said. “Love Dies has agreed to vouch for your miracle, and so will I. This has nothing to do with crime, so Judge won't be present, it will only be the new Council. There will be some pushback since you were a Citizen, but no one will deny the will of the gods. I'm sure of it. All right?”

Henry said nothing. He was worried about the vetting trial, but not in the way that Doom Jazz thought. _This is my last chance. If they vet this so-called 'miracle', I'll be stuck in the Syndicate. I won't have another chance to die. I have to be executed at the conclusion of the trial. I have to end this. I don't want to be a puppet, not even for a god! I don't want to live anymore in this twisted Paradise! I want to die! I_ have to _die, and this vetting trial is my last chance to do it. I'm kind of sorry for Doom Jazz but whatever he thinks he feels for me, it isn't real. A man like him doesn't fall for a guy like me. This is more deception from the gods. I have to end it. I'm no fucking hero, I just can't stand the pain anymore._

#

Doom Jazz let his arm fall from Henry's shoulders as they approached the looming Court House. He straightened up, brushing snow off his coat with his hand. Henry slouched even more, his eyes guarded, mouth turned down sullenly. He dragged his feet to the massive building's entrance, so reticent that Doom Jazz thought he might be planning to bolt. Doom Jazz gripped Henry's arm, knowing the Council would not tolerate a runaway, blessed by the gods or not.

It took a full ten minutes to get into the building. Doom Jazz released Henry once they were safely in the elevator. Doom Jazz wiped blood from his neck with a pad of gauze, then tended to Henry's punctured palm.

“Direct blood verification, retina scan, Marshals everywhere,” Doom Jazz griped. “They've really gone all out on security.”

“After the last Council was massacred en masse? I'm shocked. Stunned.”

Henry crossed his arms defensively. He had traded his slouch to keep his head held high in defiance. He stood on the opposite side of Doom Jazz in the elevator, not even looking at him.

“You don't have a demon to blame for your obnoxious attitude anymore, Henry,” Doom Jazz said. “You'd better behave in there. The Council will not tolerate disrespect.”

“Whatever.”

Doom Jazz slammed his arms on either side of Henry's face, caging him against the elevator's golden metallic wall. Henry blinked at him in surprise but set his jaw stubbornly. Doom Jazz remembered that look quite well from Henry's troubled youth.

“Listen, I didn't pull your freezing ass off that beach so that I could spend the rest of my life babysitting a whiny, foul-mouthed man-child,” he said. “But I am _not_ going to let you die, either. I owe that to Eyes and I owe it to you. So you keep your damned mouth shut in there and let Love Dies and I handle this, understand?”

“Or what?” sneered Henry. “You'll spank me again?”

“Yeah. Without the glove, this time.”

Henry said nothing. The elevator stopped, doors opening. Doom Jazz took Henry roughly by the arm and dragged him out. Their ungainly images were mirrored in polished golden stone, following them down the marble-tiled hallway. There was no telling where the light was coming from but it was warm and soothing. The amber-tinted windows gave the snowy view a pleasant glow. They turned a corner so sharp that the prior hall was completely cut off from view. Pines framed a huge set of double doors, locked by a console.

Doom Jazz looked directly into a black glass ball above the console so that it could read his retinas and take a picture of his features. With a sigh, he let the reader beneath the console take yet another sample of his blood from his neck. He yanked Henry's hand into the reader and it pierced Henry's palm in the same spot the previous one had.

“Ow! Fuck.”

“Better get used to it, Syndicate security has gone back to basics.”

“Fucking Syndicate assholes.”

Doom Jazz took advantage of their solitude to smack Henry's bottom.

“Would you stop doing that?!”

“Watch your mouth,” Doom Jazz warned. “This isn't a game, Henry. If you can't control yourself, just don't say anything.”

“Whatever.”

Doom Jazz found that flippant answer more annoying than the swearing. He had no time to address it. The doors to the courtroom swept open. Even Doom Jazz was dwarfed by the massive black marble pillars surrounding the stone benches encircling the room. Doom Jazz led Henry to a bench and table in the sunken center of the room, where all eyes above could look down on them. Lady Love Dies was already there, along with, surprisingly—

“Oh, it's the goat-headed idol with the tits, huh?” Henry said. “Didn't expect her to be here.”

“I should have paralyzed your vocal cords before coming here,” Doom Jazz muttered. “Shut up, Henry.”

“I wasn't expecting such a bland miracle, either,” Crimson Acid said. “You were given your life but certainly no gifts of beauty or intellect. In fact, you looked taller when you were possessed, Henry Division.”

“I'm still big enough where it—Ouch!”

Doom Jazz pinched Henry. Even through his jeans, it hurt.

“Ladies,” Doom Jazz greeted them. “Do you think this vetting trial really needs two of the Paradise Psycho Unit's finest?”

“You look like you can use all the help you can get,” Love Dies replied. “I've never seen you so harassed, Doom Jazz. Are you sure he's been exorcised?”

“He's demon-free, at least,” Doom Jazz said. “Still a pain in the ass.”

“I've no doubt,” Love Dies said. “Second time I'll be defending this pain in the ass.”

“The 'pain in the ass' is right here,” Henry grumbled. “Short time, no see, investigation freak.”

“You sound completely Syndicate already.”

“Blame the miracle.”

“Enough, Henry,” Doom Jazz cut in. “Stand there and be quiet already.”

The large single door in the back of the room opened. Five figures filed in, tall and austere as the building itself. They wore ceremonial robes over their chic suits and dresses. One figure stood behind a massive stone desk raised on a dais at the center of the room. Two figures sat on this figure's left side on the benches, and the remaining two sat on the right. They removed their hoods. All the doors in the room slammed shut. The torches lined up around the room burst into fiery life.

“Wait, that's it?”

Doom Jazz sucked in a furious breath.

“Five?” Henry persisted. “Just _five_? Are you fuc—mmph!”

Doom Jazz covered Henry's mouth with his hand. As he, Crimson Acid, and Love Dies bent at the waist in a formal bow, Doom Jazz forced Henry into the same position. The Council members looked down with varied expressions.

“Honored members of the new Council,” Doom Jazz greeted them. “Leader Sin Evergreen, Honored Councilors Armons Monserrat, Nicolina Rose, Balthazar Tears, and Constellation Bride. Blessed be your judgment.”

“And may your cause find the light.”

Henry was allowed to straighten up. He tugged his blazer back in place, glowering at Doom Jazz. He might have said something but his attention was caught by the ringing dulcet tones of the Council's leader. He lifted his head to see the man at the highest point in the center of the chamber.

Sin Evergreen was a giant of a man, especially broad in the shoulders and chest. His skin was a deep weather-beaten reddish bronze, his hair and eyes the color of pine needles. Each side of his face had a long, white scar from forehead to chin, framing straight, hard features. Beneath the ceremonial robe he wore a tailored suit of pure white and a deep green shirt, open to show a chest rippling with muscle beneath green curls of hair. Merely looking at him brought to mind winter in the deep, wild woods.

“Is _that_ supposed to be your grand miracle?”

Henry made an effort to turn his gaze from the impressive Leader to a voluptuous woman whose skin seemed to be made entirely of rose gold. She gleamed in the firelight, deep red dress cut to show as much unnatural skin (metal? plastic?) as possible. Her hair was red as her dress, falling down from her head in waist-length ringlets. Her face was a polished blank mask save for two alarmingly human, albeit dark rose, eyes.

“Councilor Nicolina Rose,” Doom Jazz greeted her. “Yes, this is Henry Division Kiwami, receiver of the blessing of the gods.”

“Taking that surname a bit far,” Henry muttered.

Even a whisper carried far in the chamber. Nicolina Rose's eyes narrowed at Henry, the mask molding itself around the eyes. Doom Jazz squeezed Henry's wrist hard enough to make his cut bleed again. Henry bit his lip. Defiance was going to be more painful than he expected. The doctor was a sadist.

“I remember hearing about this boy. Isn't he dead?”

The woman who spoke in a distracted manner was strikingly beautiful. Her skin was deep umber, freckled with diamonds set into the sheer sleeves and collar of her midnight blue velvet dress. Ethereal white hair floated down around her exquisite face like a veil, and her azure eyes were large and round beneath long white lashes.

“Yes, Councilor Constellation Bride,” Doom Jazz replied. “Henry Division Kiwami died with Island 24 while possessed by a demon summoned during a failed communion with the gods, the ritual obtained from the Grimoire of Majidah. Yet he has been resurrected here, on Island 25, perfectly exorcised. That is the miracle that we have brought to be vetted by the Council's wisdom.”

The Council traded unfathomable glances and expressions. Henry's stomach fluttered anxiously. He felt a lump form in his throat as memories of his trial for the crimes he committed under the demon's influence assaulted his mind. His fists tightened as the charge of murdering his mother rang in his ears. He felt stupidly childish for it, but it was all he could do to keep from crying.

“That boy was a Citizen!” Nicolina Rose said. “You can't mean to suggest that a mere Citizen was granted the blessings of the gods? Impossible!”

“There is no other possible explanation for his reappearance,” Doom Jazz said firmly. “Lady Love Dies and Crimson Acid of the Paradise Psycho Unit will testify to that.”

“ _No_ possible explanation? There is always an explanation to be had. I should have thought that the investigation freak would know that.”

Lady Love Dies frowned but kept her cool. Henry looked up at the man who had spoken. He was a tall, handsome man in a sleek black suit beneath his robe. His skin was perfect ebony, uninterrupted by any hair, and his brown eyes had golden undertones.

“I have explored alternate explanations, Councilor Monserrat,” Lady Love Dies said. “It is impossible that Henry Division Kiwami's survival was a product of human intervention.”

So this was Armons Monserrat, Doom Jazz thought. Armons was the firstborn and favorite son of the late former Council Leader Monserrat, and had been groomed his entire life to take his father's place. It was rumored that the current Monserrat was furious that the Sign of Succession had chosen Sin Evergreen to lead the new Council instead of him. Whatever position Evergreen took, Monserrat would doubtless fight him on it.

“I have looked into it, as well,” Monserrat said. “After the Ferry Woman's execution, her taxi was left at the disposal of all those qualified to evacuate Island 24. During that time, several persons had the opportunity to smuggle Henry Division out of the Desolation Cell and to Perfect 25; coincidentally, all three persons now alleging this supposed miracle.”

“This is true,” Crimson Acid spoke up. “We _all_ had the opportunity to bring Henry Division Kiwami from Island 24 to Perfect 25. There would be no sense in denying that, and a simple lie would make the records useless since taxi cargo is not checked.”

“Are you admitting to the smuggling, then, Crimson?”

The jovial question was asked by a massive horned man. Neon purple hair was spiked up around his rams horns, and spilled from his face in a long full beard. Unlike the others, he wore simple workman-like clothing beneath his ceremonial robe.

“Councilor Balthazar Tears, I admit to nothing,” Crimson Acid said breezily. “I did not smuggle Henry Division Kiwami in, nor, to my knowledge, did Doctor Doom Jazz or Lady Love Dies. Search our records to your hearts' content, Councilors, none of us had any motive to bring an insignificant Citizen to Perfect 25.”

“Lay it on thicker, why don't you?” Henry muttered. “High-handed elitist fascist assholes.”

“However,” Crimson Acid raised her voice over Henry's, “even if any of us had smuggled him over, there is still no explaining his exorcism. The last time that he was seen, in the Desolation Cell on Island 24, this boy was at the mercy of the demon that had inhabited his body for an entire decade. His body was a wreckage, held together only by the demon's power and will. Had he been exorcised in such a state, his body would have crumbled to ash, and he would have died. Yet here he stands, as human as he was before he came under the demon's sway ten years ago. Can you explain that, Councilor Monserrat? As you know, Perfect 25 has yet to find and train a competent exorcist.”

“And yet one among you has exorcism training,” Monserrat countered. “Doctor Doom Jazz, you once petitioned the Council to be allowed to take on the role of exorcist in addition to your role as doctor. In your petition, you stated that you had been studying exorcism. Is this correct?”

“Correct, but that petition was denied,” Doom Jazz said. “Further, I was never able to learn the skills necessary for exorcism. If I had, I would have exorcised Henry years ago, before it was too late; that was my aim but I failed. I'm not a man of very strong faith, as everyone in this room knows.”

“How it fades, the faith,” Constellation Bride said. Her eyes were a million miles away and full of sorrow. “Senseless cries and whispered loneliness, but a glimmer in the eyes of the gods … ”

 _I could use a dose of whatever she's on,_ Henry thought. He almost said it out loud but Doom Jazz was squeezing his hand numb already.

“Even if I had exorcised him now, like Crimson Acid said, his body would have been destroyed,” Doom Jazz said. “Nothing but a miracle could have repaired that ruin of a body the demon left this boy with.”

“Oh come on, I'm twenty-seven,” Henry grumbled. “I'm not a fucking boy.”

“And he is certainly exorcised?” Monserrat asked. “His behavior leads one to wonder.”

“He is boorish even by Citizen standards,” Nicolina Rose agreed. “Has this boy brought demons to Perfect 25?”

“He is exorcised and completely free from demonic influence,” Doom Jazz said. “I am sure that you have all seen the data from his tests, which were verified by my best assistants.”

“I attest to that,” Lady Love Dies said. “He's an immature, angry child, but he is not possessed.”

“I also attest to it,” Crimson Acid said. “The boy has been made a tool of the gods, not the demons.”

Henry scowled. _I know twenty-seven years is nothing to these semi-immortal Syndicate assholes but this is ridiculous. Do they really_ all _see me as a child? Damn it! Forget it. I have bigger things to worry about._

“The gods have their dangers, as well,” Monserrat said. “This boy was a Citizen that illegally engaged in celestial communication, thus opening the bridge between infinities and allowing the demons into Island 24. Island 24 was corrupted and failed because of this Henry Division. Now, we are supposed to trust this mysterious restoration of his life?”

“What are you insinuating, Councilor Monserrat?” Lady Love Dies asked.

“You of all people should understand, Love Dies,” Monserrat said. “Miracle or no, it is highly possible that Henry Division is being deceived by the gods.”

“That is a grave accusation, Councilor Monserrat,” Leader Sin Evergreen said. “Furthermore, it is not the issue at hand. May I remind you, fellow Councilors, that we are here only to vet the miracle that has restored Henry Division Kiwami. All further issues may be dealt with only once this one is settled. As to that, does anyone have further arguments to present concerning the miracle?”

“I disagree, Leader,” Monserrat said. “If this is a deception, we cannot vet it as a miracle! Not only will we be acknowledging that a mere Citizen is capable of receiving such a blessing, we will be allowing an unqualified boy to commune with the gods! It is unheard of!”

“By design, miracles are often unheard of,” Sin Evergreen said. “They are mysterious, tenuous things that must be watched and protected. I will not condemn this boy if his miracle can be definitively proven. I ask again, does anyone have further argument against this miracle?”

“I do!”

Doom Jazz turned to Henry, his face was a study in apoplectic fury. He reached for Henry but Henry moved out of his reach.

“I never asked for this fucking 'miracle'!” Henry shouted up at the Leader of the Council. “Everything you read about me in those files is right! I'm a criminal Citizen! I don't deserve to live and I don't _want_ to live! This whole thing is a farce!”

Doom Jazz went at Henry but stopped when Sin Evergreen held up a hand. He stood back, shaking with rage. Henry stepped to the front of the stone table before them, slamming his hands down on it. His nerves were trembling like violin strings and he felt sick but he was determined to see his plan through.

“We do have yet to hear from you, Henry Division Kiwami,” Sin Evergreen said. “But before you present your … argument … why don't you start at the beginning? Tell us exactly what you experienced during this miracle.”

Henry did not like Sin Evergreen's amused expression; he was watching Henry the way one would watch a mentally deficient puppy. Henry licked his dry lips and drew in a breath. His words stuck in his throat and he cleared it. He could feel the hatred filtering down from Nicolina Rose and Armons Monserrat. Doom Jazz's pissed off presence behind him did not bode well either.

Even Henry could not bring himself to swear while speaking to Sin Evergreen. He fiddled with his fingers as he recounted his memory of dying with Island 24. Then he spoke of his discussion in the Void with the deceased Witness to the End.

“An ill omen!” Monserrat declared. “If this boy was chosen to be the new Witness to the End, it means that the gods have no faith in Perfect 25's survival. If we vet this, we doom this Island!”

“That's right!” Nicolina Rose said. “We have agreed that there will be no need for another Witness! It would be madness to let this Citizen take the last Witness's place!”

“ _If_ this boy is meant to become the next Witness to the End, then it will be by the will of the gods, and we must respect that will,” Sin Evergreen said, voice booming loudly enough to silence the others although he was not yelling. “But that is not clear as of yet.”

“It's pretty fu—freaking clear!” Henry exclaimed. “I'm an omen! A bad one! You should really, really think again about—”

“Henry.”

Sin Evergreen's voice was gentle but it struck Henry harder than one of Doom Jazz's spanks. The man's presence demanded respect so powerfully that even Henry did not dare offend him. He wondered if the effect was natural or due to some supernatural influence.

“Tell me exactly what The Witness to the End told you,” Sin Evergreen ordered. “Word for word.”

Henry drew a deep breath. He shut his eyes, feeling himself tugged back to those moments in the Void. At the time, Witness's presence had been a comfort in the lonely emptiness. His smooth accented voice rolled effortlessly across Henry's memory.

_'You have been chosen, as I was so long ago, for a great purpose. Perfect 25 is the final Paradise … before the Final Doom. The Syndicate has long since strayed from its purpose and punishment is almost upon them. The cries of the empty pyramids resound in every corner of space, the balance has fallen, and the Final Doom approaches Paradise. Should the hunted not become the hunters, the Final Doom shall fall. Should the pyramids continue to stand deserted, the Final Doom shall fall. For Silent Goat has risen again to claim his Paradise.'_

Henry opened his eyes, ready to repeat the words. He was shocked to see everyone gaping at him. Had he already spoken without realizing it? A chill ran down his spine. _No different than being fucking possessed at all._

“That … That cannot be.” Even Monserrat sounded shaken. “Silent Goat died for us, he gave the last of his power to us … to Paradise! This is … This is a deception!”

Henry tried to hold back the words being written across his mind. He bit his tongue until it bled as sweat broke out across his face. The effort was wasted.

“Silent Goat lives in the world of the God Hunters!” he blurted out. “He … was … powerless. But … Witness's devotion … and … the energy that went out into the universe … when the Council was murdered, he … Ahhh! Gahh! My head! No! No, no, I don't want this! Make it stop!”

“He is possessed,” scoffed Monserrat. “Get this demon-addled child out of Paradise once and for all!”

“Lady Love Dies, this is what the Psycho Unit was re-formed for!” Nicolina Rose said. “Execute him!”

“SILENCE.” Sin Evergreen pounded his fist on the stone table. “This is a vision, not a possession. Look at his eyes and his body, they are normal. He is only untrained and overwhelmed.”

Sin Evergreen swept down from the high dais. He made his way down to the table where Doom Jazz, Love Dies, Crimson Acid, and Henry stood. He pried Henry's hands off his head and held them beneath one massive palm. With his other hand, he tipped Henry's face up to his own. The calm in his green eyes stilled Henry's soul.

“Take them out of my mind, please,” Henry begged. “I don't want this.”

“Calm yourself, child,” Sin Evergreen told him. “No, do not look away from me. Focus on my eyes. Yes, just so. Now. Let the words flow through you. Do not fight them. This will go more easily if you stop trying to fight. No demon can harm you here.”

Henry drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Sin Evergreen's soothing voice permeated his entire being. He kept eye contact with the man and gave his body up to the will of the gods.

“Silent Goat lives, but only just. The Betrayers stole his corpse and have kept it all these years, indescribably violating it to steal its secrets. But his consciousness remained, dead and dreaming. He has waited for his blessed ones of Paradise to retrieve his corpse, but the Syndicate has strayed from its purpose. When the energy went out from Island 24's end and the Council's massacre, Silent Goat absorbed it—all of it. That is why the Reality Folding Drive is malfunctioning even now, an excess of energy was diverted from it back to its source, its giver: Silent Goat. He has revived but the Betrayers now continue their despoilment of his weakened body. They will destroy him permanently if not stopped, and Paradise will be lost.”

Henry's head was throbbing. He paused to gasp in some desperate breaths. He felt cold, as if the Void was encroaching upon him. Constellation Bride joined Sin Evergreen. She brushed Henry's hair off his forehead and pressed a hand to it. The image of stars shot across Henry's vision, dizzying him.

“It is the gods,” Constellation Bride said. “This is no demonic influence. But he cannot sustain these visions without training and the blessings of the Syndicate.”

“Close his mind, Stella,” Sin Evergreen told her. “Let him rest for the time being.”

Constellation Bride nodded. Her dreamy gaze focused on Henry. She put her index fingers on each of Henry's temples and met his eyes. There were universes in her gaze, starry spinning galaxies of diamond dust. The voices in Henry's mind went quiet and his body stilled. He staggered back and fell into Doom Jazz's waiting arms.

“I need no further proof,” Sin Evergreen said. “I vote to vet this miracle.”

“Seconded,” Constellation Bride said. “How very interesting this is.”

“I vote to deny this miracle,” Monserrat said from above.

“Seconded,” Nicolina Rose said.

“Then I'll break the tie,” laughed Balthazar Tears. “I vote to vet!”

“Then the miracle is vetted,” Sin Evergreen announced. “Henry Division Kiwami is now under the protection of the Council, and shall be inducted into the Syndicate.”

“No,” Henry moaned. “Don't wanna … don't wanna be … ”

“Until the induction ceremony, I remand him back into your care, Doctor Doom Jazz,” Sin Evergreen said. “I suggest that you take good care of him, as these visions from our First God are invaluable. He must be protected.”

“Yes, sir. Blessings upon the Council.”

“May you walk with Silent Goat.”

Henry was very weak from the mental invasion. Doom Jazz picked him up and carried him out of the chamber. Love Dies and Crimson Acid followed.

“No,” Henry complained. “No. Was supposed to … Was supposed to die … Can't … Don't want … Fuck … this … I don't … wanna … be a … puppet.”

“That's more than enough out of you,” Doom Jazz said. “I thought you had blown it for a few minutes in there, you idiot. What were you thinking? If you hadn't have had that vision, they might have all voted against you!”

“That was the plan,” Henry said. “Now they're not gonna let me die, are they? Damn it. Put me down. Fucking put me down!”

Doom Jazz carried him until they were outside the building. By now, the sun had gone down and the city lights had come up. Doom Jazz set Henry on his feet. Henry looked at his three defenders with hatred in his eyes.

“None of you had any right to do this!” he said. “This is not a fucking miracle! I died with Island 24, which I fucking destroyed, and I was supposed to stay dead! I'm supposed to be dead, like all the other Citizens from 24, like my fucking father, and … and my mom! I'm not supposed to be here! And you ruined my one chance! My one fucking chance!”

“Not this again,” Doom Jazz said. “Henry, that's enough. It's done. Let's just get back to the clinic.”

“I'm not going anywhere with you!” Henry snapped. “Any of you! You all left me! You _all_ left me to die once, so just do the same fucking thing now! I'll find a way to die. If you won't help me, I'll find a fucking way myself!”

Henry went to push past them but was swung around by Crimson Acid. Before he could say a word, the goat-headed woman gave him a ringing slap across the face. Henry was knocked into Doom Jazz, a hand flying to his cheek.

“Aow! Gods _damn_ it! Why does everyone keep hitting me?” Henry rubbed his cheek, blinking back the tears that had automatically sprung to his eyes. Reading their looks, he added, “Don't answer that.”

“Island 24 is gone,” Crimson Acid said. “The past is dead. You are Syndicate now, Henry Division Kiwami. It's time that you grow up enough to bury what is lost.”

“The way the Syndicate does?” Henry asked. “It's all that forgetting that's caused this mess in the first place.”

“Our mistakes shall be rectified here on Perfect 25,” Crimson Acid said. “Like it or not, you are a part of that. The Syndicate needs you, so you shall live. It is as simple as that.”

“That isn't fair.”

“Fair to whom? You? Why should that matter?” Crimson Acid asked. “You claim to be a lowly Citizen but you certainly make much of yourself. Why should you be executed? For sins the gods have exonerated you from? And why should they not exonerate you? Because your sins are so great as to offend them? The gods are amoral, Henry. They care nothing for your good or ill. Silent Goat has decided that you shall make a good servant, and so you _**will**_ serve him. If you fight that fate, you may end up punished by a doom far worse than simple death.”

Doom Jazz was pleased that Henry did not argue. Still, he wondered what interest in this matter Crimson Acid had. He doubted that the former idol and information broker cared personally about a resurrected Citizen. Was it a matter of faith? Crimson Acid had been blessed with her new countenance but Doom Jazz did not know how religious she might be.

“So I have to be a puppet again?” Henry asked. “Last time, I ruined everything. I … I killed my mom.”

“We all have blood on our hands,” Crimson Acid said. “Paradise was built on blood. Let it soak into you, accept it, and move forward. The pain will ease with time, child.”

“I'm not a child! Why do you all keep treating me like a child?”

“Twenty-seven years is but the blink of an eye to us,” Crimson Acid said. “You are so very young compared to the Syndicate veterans, I'm afraid we can't help it. Let yourself be taught, Henry. For now, just let yourself be taught.”

Henry stared at his shoes, saying nothing.

“It's late and you are very tiring, Henry Division,” Crimson Acid said. “May your paths cross the stars.”

“And may you reach the moon,” Doom Jazz returned. When she was gone, he turned to Love Dies. “What was all that about?”

“I … have … no idea,” Love Dies said. “Crimson said that she would help me with the vetting trial, but I thought she was just trying to get on with her new boss.”

“She's got some interest in this,” Doom Jazz said. “You really have no idea what that is, Love Dies?”

“I don't know and I'm not going to trouble about it,” Love Dies said. “I trust Crimson, we're good friends and coworkers now. She _was_ key to proving Henry innocent back on Island 24, perhaps her interest in him was rekindled.”

“Yeah, well, if you could get her to snuff it back out, I'd appreciate it,” Henry said, still rubbing his cheek. “The less Syndicate assholes interested in me, the better.”

“Well I, for one, am happy to leave you to the good doctor here,” Love Dies said. “Although I do hope you manage to refrain from suicide, Henry. After all I went through to prove your innocence, it's actually nice to see you've survived.”

“It fucking sucks.”

“Well, I'm off,” Love Dies said. “May your night be starlit.”

“And fuck off to the moon. Ow!”

Doom Jazz grabbed Henry by the ear. Love Dies left shaking her head with a smile. Doom Jazz pulled Henry along through the city streets, slick with snow and predominantly empty. The night was bitterly cold, driving the Syndicate members indoors to the warmth of their fireplaces or the local bars.

“You Syndicate ass—people—are pretty violent, you know that?”

“And that surprises you? The one that's always bitching about the Citizen slaughters?”

“No. It's getting on my fucking nerves, though. Let go of me!”

Doom Jazz released him. Henry shoved his hands in his pockets. There was no use rubbing at his face or his ear, not when both his arm and backside were still smarting. _My high threshold for pain is gone,_ he thought. _I went through every torture imaginable when the demon was inside me back on Island 24, learned to take it, but now I'm so weak. I say I'm twenty-seven, but this body doesn't seem older than twenty. I was given back most of my lost years … by the gods, I guess. It is like being a kid again, just a weak, insignificant kid …_

One of Doom Jazz's heavy arms fell upon Henry's shoulders. He drew him close to his side. Henry was too miserable to pull away from his warmth.

“Why did you pull all that during the vetting trial, Henry?” Doom Jazz asked. “Do you really want to die that badly?”

“Yeah! … No.” Henry sighed, leaning his head against Doom Jazz's chest. “I don't know. I know that I deserve to die. I know that I should be dead with the other Citizens of Island 24 and … my parents. But earlier, after you pulled me out of that bathroom, I … I didn't want to die. But how would I even know if that was my own will or not? It could have just been the will of the gods—of Silent Goat.”

“Were you happy in the Void, Henry?”

“You mean, after Island 24? It was lonely but I was … content.”

“But were you _happy_?”

Henry bowed his head, shook it. Once the relief of being freed from his demon cooled, the isolation had set in. Drifting through that endless vastness, slowly being made aware of the things spawning and crawling throughout it, terrified him. When Witness had spoken to him, only then was he happy—happy to have human contact again.

“I don't want to go back there,” Henry whispered. “I know that's wrong, but I never want to go back there again.”

“Even the Syndicate isn't promised forever,” Doom Jazz said. “But you won't have to go there for a long, long time, Henry. It _is_ a blessing.”

Henry put an arm around Doom Jazz's waist, pressing as close as he could. The slap from Crimson Acid had drained the last of his anger and defiance. All he wanted was to be close to the doctor. He could at least enjoy this blessing tonight.

Henry was silent all the way to the clinic. He expected to be brought back to Doom Jazz's office, but they took the elevator to the building's top floor. Across a short hallway, Doom Jazz opened neon pink double doors with a blood check at the console. Henry followed him into a sprawling penthouse bachelor pad.

“Do you live here or are you in the process of opening a bar?”

“Didn't have enough room on my old boat for a pool table,” Doom Jazz grinned. “Thought I'd enjoy this place until my new boat is ready.”

“It's tacky.” Henry removed his coat and scarf, tossing them onto a chair. He threw himself onto a plump purple velvet sofa. “Comfortable, but really fucking tacky.”

“Get your shoes off, at least.”

Henry rolled his eyes but obeyed. Doom Jazz crossed the room and turned on the lights of an open kitchen. As he prowled through the refrigerator and cabinets, Henry kicked his sneakers off. He swung his legs down from the sofa and got up. He wandered the penthouse curiously, throwing a few darts at a board here, rolling cue balls across the pool table, flicking the lights of a neon sign that read 'Bar Knife Through The Heart' on and off.

“Hands off that!” Doom Jazz called.

Henry left the sign and continued his roaming. He found a collection of pornography VHS tapes, a wardrobe that would make any male stripper jealous, and a bathroom complete with a heart-shaped whirlpool bath. There were no personal mementos to be seen. Henry made his way over to the open kitchen and sat on one of the bar stools surrounding the kitchen island.

“Do you honestly like living like a himbo or are you just playing the stereotype to perfection?” Henry asked. “This is like a love hotel.”

“Just having fun, Henry,” Doom Jazz said. “Do _you_ like living like a petulant brat or are _you_ just playing the stereotype to perfection?”

“I'm just curious,” Henry said. “I mean, why did you bring me here? To your love shack?”

“For dinner,” Doom Jazz said. “All I have is ready-meals. Gravy-bled steak or Dead Nebula Crisped Chicken?”

“I could use a steak.” Henry drummed his fingers on the countertop. “Sooo. Is there a guest room in this loveless sex pit?”

“No.”

Doom Jazz popped the ready-meals into the instant oven. It hummed as it heated the food. Doom Jazz crossed his arms on the countertop, leaning across it. Henry's face colored and he stared at his hands.

“So what is this?” he asked. “Why am I here, Doom Jazz?”

Doom Jazz leaned further. Henry lifted his face and was met by his lips. He kissed the doctor back, arms encircling his neck. His hands scraped against Doom Jazz's buzzed hair, into the gel-stiffened base of his mohawk. Henry was a bit dazed when their mouths parted.

“I'm going to take care of you, Henry,” Doom Jazz said. “That's why you're here.”

“And … this is how you take care of someone?”

“Sure.” Doom Jazz ran his gloved finger over Henry's pouting bottom lip. “The thing is, I'm not good at platonic relationships, Henry. I've had a few people that were only friends in my life, but it's not my preference—especially with a cute guy like you.”

“It's so weird, not being a rotten husk.” Henry looked down at his unblemished hands. “I had forgotten what it feels like to be alive.”

Doom Jazz kissed him.

“Well, that should help you remember.”

The oven beeped and Doom Jazz slid away. Henry licked his lips, the taste of the man still on his tongue. Doom Jazz fetched the meals, a bottle of wine, two glasses, utensils, and sat down across from Henry to eat. Henry lifted off the plastic wrap and poked curiously at the food.

“Hey, did you really try to become an exorcist?” Henry asked. “Were you doing all that for me?”

“I felt sorry for you, you were just a kid,” Doom Jazz said. “And with Grace Bloodlines dead and the demons flooding in, I figured that it would be useful if the Syndicate doctor was also the exorcist. But as I said, it never took. I don't have the patience or the faith for exorcism.”

The steak was only a ready-meal but it was the best that Henry had ever had. He carved the soft meat with the edge of his fork, too impatient to use his knife. _He'll have to learn Syndicate etiquette,_ Doom Jazz thought, smiling. _He has his father's eyes but they're worlds apart. Eyes Kiwami used to school_ me _on Syndicate etiquette after we joined, he took to it like a bird to flight. Nice bit of irony, if I end up teaching Henry all that._

“If you could have exorcised me back then, would you have?” Henry asked. “You really would have saved me?”

“I don't know if I could have saved you, even with an exorcism,” Doom Jazz said. “You were convicted for illegal celestial communication, you doomed Island 24. Once Carmelina Silence had no more use for you, you probably would have been executed anyway. I always did wonder why they delayed your execution for so long.”

“But even if I had been executed, it would have been quick,” Henry said. “I wouldn't have suffered for ten years, that Silence bitch wouldn't have had a patsy to frame for murdering the Council, and I wouldn't be here now.”

“I don't want to think about that. Can you please stop being so morbid?”

“I wasn't trying to be,” Henry said. “I was just trying to say that I appreciate it. You trying to learn exorcism to help me. I didn't think anyone gave a fuck about what happened to me.”

“I'm a doctor, it's my job to help people. Did you really think I could see a messed up kid ruin his life and feel nothing?”

“Citizens don't mean anything, not to you people,” Henry said. “Our lives are worthless.”

“Doesn't mean none of us ever care.”

“ 'Not all Syndicate', is that it?” Henry snorted cynically. “Give me a fucking break.”

“Eyes Kiwami petitioned for Syndicate members to be able to grant honorary Syndicate status to Citizens, several times,” Doom Jazz said. “I've looked back at those times a lot since the trial on Island 24. He made those petitions around the time your mother was pregnant with you.”

“Then he failed and decided to forget about us. Stand-up guy.”

“There was no way that he could have gotten those petitions voted through,” Doom Jazz explained. “He knew that. He also must have known that if he had been seen with Rina during her pregnancy, the Council would know why he had made those petitions. The Council can be petty and overzealous when they're challenged. If they had found out about you and your mother, they would have prosecuted Eyes for illegal intercourse with a Citizen. They might have even imprisoned your mother, forced her to terminate you. Is it any wonder that Eyes backed off? He took a risk even sending that money to your mother for your care.”

Henry mulled this over as he chewed his food. He found no way to tear down the logic of Doom Jazz's argument. He grabbed his wine glass and took a long drink.

“I think that Eyes' frustration with the Council made him susceptible to Carmelina Silence,” Doom Jazz said. “She was also angry at the Council for barring her family from gaining a seat. They must have commiserated with each other's plights and, well, one thing led to another. Eyes wasn't very good at platonic relationships, either.”

“How do you know my father wasn't in on Carmelina Silence's scheme?” Henry asked. “You really think all they did was bitch about the Council and fuck?”

“I've asked myself that question over and over,” Doom Jazz said. “The truth is, I don't have an answer for you, Henry. Eyes might have been in on Carmelina's plot, and seeing both his sons doomed to suffer and die broke him in the end. Or maybe Carmelina never told him the entire plan, and when he found out, it was too much. Perhaps he really didn't know that Carmelina was pulling all the strings and felt guilty anyway. He took what he knew to the grave, Henry.”

“And that grave went with Island 24,” Henry said. “I need to learn to bury the past, like that goat-headed woman said, right?”

“You and me both.” Doom Jazz stood to refill their glasses. “This should help.”

“It's good,” Henry said. “I never had wine before.”

“Really?”

“I got possessed when I was seventeen, didn't do any drinking after that.”

“You weren't supposed to be drinking before that, at that age.”

“You know I never cared much for the rules,” Henry grinned. “Hey, at least I got to chug some beers and rum before the demon ruined my life, right?”

“You are a bad boy, Henry Division.”

Doom Jazz reached across the table and tousled Henry's hair. Henry sobered. He poked at his steak and stared into his wine glass. His eyes, the ones Doom Jazz said he shared with his father, stared up at him from the deep purple liquid.

 _The Syndicate have their troubles, too,_ he realized. _Maybe even my father wasn't as much an asshole as I thought. Doom Jazz is okay. I saw that couple, with the skeleton guy, at the trial … they definitely loved each other. But my father is dead, my mother is dead, all those people executed at the trial are dead, all the Citizens were slaughtered … because of me. If I had never let Yuri Night use me, if I had never used the rituals in the Grimoire of Majidah …_

“You're a bad boy, but I was a bad friend. If I had been more of a friend to Eyes, maybe he would have opened up to me,” Doom Jazz was saying, also serious. “If I hadn't been so determined not to hear anything about Council business or politics, he might have told me about you and Rina, about Carmelina, all of it. I could have helped. I know that I could at least have helped Eyes. He didn't have to die. He could even be here with you today, if I hadn't been so selfish.”

“It's not your fault, it's mine,” Henry said. “I was the one that chose to use those rituals.”

“We've had this conversation already, haven't we?” Doom Jazz chuckled bitterly. “Blaming ourselves, blaming each other … What's the point? Carmelina Silence would have found another dupe, Eyes would have found another reason to end his life, and the only difference would be that you wouldn't be here with me.”

“I shouldn't be here, eating steak, having fun. After what I did? It's crazy!”

“Life is crazy, Henry,” Doom Jazz said. “Let's bury the past, like Crimson said. Better yet, let's drown it.”

Despite his proclaimed guilt, Henry was still licking gravy from his fork. Doom Jazz took their empty plates and glasses to the sink. He returned with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. Henry smiled gratefully. Doom Jazz lifted his half-filled glass.

“It is what it is.”

“To it being what it is,” Henry toasted.

The gaudy apartment was silent as they drank. They both wanted nothing more than to forget the unforgettable. Once their glasses were empty, Doom Jazz brought them and the bottle over to the purple sofa. When Henry was close, Doom Jazz pulled him down to sit on his lap. Henry laughed, already drunk. Doom Jazz drank straight from the bottle, then tipped it to Henry's lips.

“I never drank with anyone before,” Henry said. His words were already slurred. “Did you know that?”

“You were seventeen and already drinking alone?”

“Day drinking alone.” Henry laughed. “What the fuck else was there to do? Citizens're just … just fodder for the farms or the Deep Factory, or slaughter! Right? So if your life means nothing, might as well enjoy it! So I enjoyed it! Until … Until I didn't. Anymore.”

“We're supposed to be drowning the past, Henry.”

“Yeah because the past's dead. The past's all dead,” Henry said. “They're aaaaall fuckin' dead! My father's dead, my mother's dead, everyone is dead! Out there, they're out there, like I was, empty ideas of people, drifting out into the Void until they're not even memories … ”

Doom Jazz brought the bottle to Henry's lips again. Henry drank until he broke away with a cough. The whiskey burned down his throat, setting his blood on fire. Doom Jazz kissed the corner of his mouth, his cheek, and then his temple. Henry turned to wrap his mouth around the doctor's, licking the whiskey from his tongue. The sharp edges of his memories finally began to dull.

“You're alive, Henry,” Doom Jazz told him. “That's all that matters now. We're alive right here, right now.”

“Right here in this cheap love hotel.”

“Cheap is it? I'll show you cheap.”

Doom Jazz put the bottle on the table. He slung Henry right over his shoulder and stood up. Henry yelped in surprise, kicking. Doom Jazz patted his bottom to still him. He carried him into his bedroom. The room was lit only by blue and pink light from an electronic billboard shining in through the open blinds. Henry was casually tossed onto a mattress, buoyantly bouncing up and down on it. Laughing drunkenly, Henry threw himself back on the waterbed, enjoying the way his body rocked up and down.

“Waterbeds are not cheap,” Doom Jazz informed him. “My apartment is not cheap.”

“Still tacky, though!”

“That mouth!” Doom Jazz climbed over him, kissing him hard. “I am going to—” He sucked on the younger man's bottom lip. “—shut that mouth of yours—” A deep kiss that nearly choked Henry. “—once and for all.”

“Like to see you fucking try.”

Doom Jazz rolled Henry onto his stomach, unbuckled his belt, and pulled it out of his jeans with one smooth motion. He reached beneath him, opened his fly, and tugged his pants off. Henry stripped his shirt off, popping a few buttons as he did. Doom Jazz's leather-covered metal hands caressed his body, followed by the slickness of his tongue.

“Oh I'm going to do more than try, Henry.”

“Oooh big talk. Is the rest of you as big as your talk?”

“You'll find out soon enough. Naughty boy.” Doom Jazz gave Henry a slap on the bottom. “Wasn't I supposed to spank you with the gloves off? For that crap you pulled at the trial?”

Henry lifted his head up, hair in his eyes. “Please don't.”

Doom Jazz was tempted but he only gave Henry's bruised bottom a round of gloved spanks. Henry fussed but Doom Jazz could tell it was just for show. He even raised his backside a bit, eager for the playful discipline.

“You like that, don't you? That what you always wanted, Henry? Is that why you were always so bad? You just wanted a daddy to come discipline you, eh?”

“Yeah, maybe. But I'd rather have you. Yeow! Ha … so much for doing no harm, though, doctor.”

“Sometimes a little bitter medicine is just what the doctor ordered.”

“Mmmm.”

Henry kicked and pounded the fluid mattress. The more the spanking stung, the harder he got. In an agony of arousal, he buried his face in the nearest pillow, arms over his head. When the spanks stopped, caresses took their place. Doom Jazz kissed his heated flesh, each cheek and thigh. Henry gave a broken cry, overwhelmed by need.

Doom Jazz turned Henry onto his back again, kissing his mouth with furious passion. The gloves traveled up and down his legs, to his burning buttocks, and lifted his legs up. The rocking of the mattress was dizzying to Henry. He felt that he might melt back _into_ it, but he remained on its surface, just below Doom Jazz. When their eyes met, a flush of embarrassment and shyness made Henry look away quickly. Doom Jazz brushed Henry's hair off his face, gave him a tender, incongruously chaste kiss on the lips.

“You all right with this, then?”

“Mm … mm hm.”

“Finally shut you up, eh?”

Henry had no comeback line. His mind was blissfully blank, all its functions turned towards the delicious sensations rippling through his body. He covered his eyes with an arm as the doctor kneed his legs further apart, resting them on his metal shoulders. Everything was quiet save for their mingled panting and Doom Jazz's grunts. Even when he entered him, Henry could only muster a soft, short gasp.

As the man drove into him deeper, Henry's silence broke. He screamed in pleasure, and pain. His nails dug into the other man's shirt until they met metal, then made their way to his neck. Doom Jazz finally pushed him back down, pinning his arms above his head. Henry was vaguely reminded of being handcuffed in prison, secure in his cell, disallowed to hurt anyone else. He gave himself up to Doom Jazz as he had to the demon, but this pain was pleasant, this bondage more than welcome. He had been a fool back then, wasting his body on a demon. He should never have sought anything more or less than this feeling.

All sense of time was lost. Henry let the doctor use him until they were both spent. He blanked out for a time, coming to with an arm around Doom Jazz. He lifted himself up on rubbery arms and let his head fall on the man's chest. Doom Jazz squeezed his shoulder and kissed the top of his head.

“That was amazing. I didn't know it would be like this.”

Without the hard cynical edge in his voice, Henry sounded younger. Doom Jazz looked down but could not see his face. Then he felt spots of wetness dotting his chest.

“Are you crying?” Doom Jazz turned Henry's face to his own and rubbed tears away with his thumbs. “What's the matter?”

“Nothing, it's stupid.”

“Tell me.”

Henry shook his head. A flash of pink light from the billboard outside illuminated his reddened face. Doom Jazz frowned quizzically at him for a few minutes while the young man sniffled. Then it dawned on him.

“Don't tell me you were a virgin?”

“I said, never fucking mind!”

“Hey, shhh, it's all right,” Doom Jazz said. “It's nothing to be ashamed of. It's just unexpected. The way you talked … ”

“I'm a virgin, not an idiot,” Henry scoffed. “Or … I was. Look, I knew about sex. I mean, I jerked off to magazines like any teenager. I just didn't like anyone in school. Or in the apartment building. I don't know. Everyone was just so stupid, enjoying their dumb little Citizen lives, never fucking realizing how fucked up everything was … Everyone pissed me off too much. I didn't want to get close to any of those fucking sheep.”

“Holding out for a Syndicate member, eh?”

“No! No, I … ” Henry frowned. “No, that can't be it. I'm not a Syndicate-chasing whore like my mom was!”

Henry sucked in a breath at his words.

“I didn't … mean that. I … ”

“You're drunk. Go to sleep, Henry.”

“Why did I say that? She wasn't … I … You see what I mean? I don't deserve this, you, I … ”

Henry buried his face in Doom Jazz's open shirt. Doom Jazz sighed as the younger man began to cry. He knew that talking to a miserable drunk was like trying to shout a rainstorm down, so he said nothing. He stroked the younger man's hair and back as he sobbed. It had been a very long day, and soon Henry had cried himself to sleep.

 _Just like a little kid,_ Doom Jazz noted. He stretched his legs and positioned Henry beside him on the pillow, keeping an arm around him. _This guy has a lot of problems, way more than his daddy issues. Would I really be doing this if it weren't for Eyes? Letting this kid get attached to me is going to be a headache. This isn't what I do. I bring home strong, independent ladies and men for one-night stands, have drunken orgies, and move on. That's how I've survived all these years._

Doom Jazz reached behind his headboard and drew out the picture frame that had been trapped between it and the wall. Akiko 14's proud, beautiful face was highlighted by the billboard's blue light. Doom Jazz touched a gloved finger to the photo.

_She was in love, and it wasn't with me. I wouldn't let her love me, the same way I wouldn't let Eyes open up to me about his Council business and politics. I've never let anyone in, and I've lost almost everyone. Shit. Now this stupid kid is making me a miserable drunk._

Doom Jazz smiled affectionately down at Henry. He kissed his lips and got a sleepy little kiss in return. _It's not so bad, being needed. It's kind of nice. If I can protect this one messed up man, maybe I can change just a little. And if I change, maybe I won't have to keep ending up alone._


	4. The Guilt of Division Kiwami

Doom Jazz awoke before Henry. Despite the drinking, he had no hangover. He felt good, waking up with a warm weight on his chest, the tickle of hair at his neck. For a long while, he lay in bed, watching the daylight brighten. When he was going to get up, Henry clung to him, the shift rocking the water-filled mattress.

“Demanding even in sleep, eh?” Doom Jazz mused. “All right, I'm not going anywhere.”

Henry murmured something unintelligible, curling up against him. Doom Jazz fell back asleep listening to his soft snores. When he woke up again, the sun was shining in full force. Henry had rolled off of him, on his stomach with a pillow over his head to block out the light. Doom Jazz nudged him but he was still sleeping. He kissed the man's shoulder and climbed out of bed, bladder rushing him to the bathroom.

Henry woke up in hazy confusion. Images of the grand Void of space danced behind his eyes as his body floated weightless. A star expanded until its white light filled his eyes, almost blinding him. The motion of waves beneath him brought his consciousness back down into his body. He rolled and fumbled around in bed, knocking aside pillows and sheets. Finally, he yawned widely and opened his eyes.

Henry was startled by the image of a young man hovering far above him. It took him a full minute to realize that it was his reflection in a mirrored ceiling. He ran a hand over his face, unmarked and smooth-skinned. He lifted his hand and stared at his palm, then lowered his gaze to his bandaged arm. The events of the previous day came tumbling back: waking up on Perfect 25, Doom Jazz, Love Dies, trying to kill himself, the miracle vetting trial, being welcomed to the Syndicate.

_That's right, I'm alive. I'm fucking alive. I was resurrected by the gods. I'm practically Syndicate now. And I'm in Doctor Doom Jazz's sleazy love motel penthouse. Because I fucked him. Holy shit._

Henry sat up and climbed out of bed. It was nice to wake up with his memories intact. There was no demon to suck away his awareness, no struggle to keep his soul within his own skin. The morning's greatest struggle was finding the door to the adjacent bathroom to take a piss.

Henry lingered in a steamy shower for almost an hour, since the Syndicate apartments had no energy limits controlling their hot water consumption. He also took the time to raid Doom Jazz's things: there was powerfully minty toothpaste, fine-smelling powders, luxurious soaps. Henry donned one of the doctor's robes, comfortable despite being a hideous shade of neon pink that matched his mohawk. _What's a few thousand dead Citizens if I can get used to living like this?_ The thought felt more genuine than he was comfortable with, so he pushed it aside.

Henry found the doctor in the open kitchen, cooking. He sat down on one of the kitchen island's bar stools, winced. Doom Jazz glanced at him, smirked.

“You should really invest in more comfortable seating, if you're such a fucking sadist.”

“You weren't complaining last night,” Doom Jazz said cheerfully. “Stuck your bum out for it, if I remember right.”

Henry turned red. Unable to argue, he folded his arms on the counter and buried his face in them. He dozed until Doom Jazz ruffled his hair, serving him a plate of food.

“This is all so fucking weird,” he said through a mouthful. “We hardly even know each other. And now you're so fucking attracted to me?”

“We've known each other for years, Henry,” Doom Jazz said. “You've always been a cute guy, I might have fucked you sooner if that demon weren't in the way. He came on to me once, before your body was so wrecked. I can't say I wasn't tempted.”

“The _demon_ came onto you? With my body? Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“No, I'm not,” Doom Jazz said gravely. “At first, I thought it was you. That bad attitude of yours made it hard to tell sometimes. You were nineteen, fit, handsome. I really thought that you wanted me. I never would have taken advantage of you, though, even if I hadn't figured it out. Made me think about things for a bit. It was after that, that I tried to learn exorcism. I actually thought I could save you. Stupid, wasn't it?”

“It's kind of nice. I never knew anyone wanted to save me.”

Doom Jazz leaned over the table and kissed him.

“You're cute when you smile like that,” he said. “You should do it more often.”

“Fuck off.”

“Blushing too, eh?”

“ _Fuck off_. Anyway, you … you're really okay with this?” Henry asked. “You just … brought me home like a stray dog. And yeah, last night was fucking amazing. But is it really okay for me to stay here?”

“You hate this penthouse that much, do you?”

“No! I want to stay!”

Doom Jazz grinned. Henry's face was burning. He cleared his throat and escaped the conversation by stuffing his mouth with food. Was this how normal people communicated? He realized that he had never simply talked with another human being, not with his guards down like this. It worried him, feeling this vulnerable.

“Listen, Henry, I don't trust you,” Doom Jazz said. “Honestly, you were never the most stable person, even before you were possessed. And if you keep trying to kill yourself, eventually you will be able to do it. I brought you here because I thought it would be better than keeping you locked up in the clinic downstairs. Either way, I'm not going to keep my eyes off of you.”

“Oh.” Henry pushed his food around with his fork. “Because you feel like you owe my father that, right?”

“Partly, but I don't want _you_ to die, Henry,” Doom Jazz said. “I'm glad I found you on that beach.”

“Is this real?” Henry leaned his face on his hand, frowning. “What if all of this is because of the gods? What if they're using both of us?”

“I'd know if I was being interfered with by the gods,” Doom Jazz said. He ran his gloved finger over Henry's bottom lip. “Why is it so hard for you to believe that I care about you, Henry? Even after last night?”

“I don't deserve it.”

“Life isn't a meritocracy,” Doom Jazz told him. “If you're going to be in the Syndicate, you're going to have to accept that. Speaking of which, I had a message from the Council on my answering machine. They're ready to induct you formally into the Syndicate, the ceremony will take place at midnight tonight at the Opulent Ziggurat.”

“A ceremony? Can they have it without me?” Henry asked. “I fucking hate the temple, all that blood.”

“Whining like a four-year-old again, are we?” Doom Jazz said. “Yes, Henry, you have to be present. You'll be blessed by the Council and receive your share of the power that blesses the Syndicate. It's quite brief, and actually kind of nice. It's been centuries since your father and I were formally inducted together. Good times.”

“So Citizens _can_ be inducted into the Syndicate,” Henry murmured. “You fuckers just choose to hoard all the gods' powers for yourselves.”

“I didn't make the gods-damned system, Henry,” Doom Jazz said, exasperated. “And if you think the real world is any better, you can think again. Even before the Great Betrayal, that world was as fucked as this one is—no, even more so. You wouldn't have been any better off there than you were here, and you wouldn't have been miraculously resurrected.”

“Some miracle.”

“That ingratitude is going to get you in trouble if you keep it up,” Doom Jazz warned. “You're lucky things have changed over the past centuries. In the early days, in the real world, the nascent Syndicate would have had you flogged for blasphemy. Even today, too much disrespect of the gods can get you fined or locked up in the psych ward. Do you want to be confined to a padded cell, Henry?”

“You'd do that to me?”

“I wouldn't have much choice, blasphemy in the Syndicate is seen as a mental disorder,” Doom Jazz said. “And you would look cute in a strait jacket.”

“Kinky,” Henry smiled.

Doom Jazz cleared their empty dishes away, stopping to kiss Henry's cheek. Henry rubbed it off. Doom Jazz told him his clothing were in the dryer in the laundry room beside the nearest bathroom. Henry hurried to get dressed, feeling ridiculous in the bright pink robe. In the meantime, Doom Jazz settled down on the purple sofa and turned on the morning news. Henry jumped on his lap, putting his arms around his neck. Doom Jazz gave an amused sniff, tousling Henry's hair.

“So what's going to happen to me after this ceremony?” Henry asked. “I don't exactly bring anything to the table. I was barely out of high school when I … you know.”

“I know. Well, first, you'll be given a Syndicate credit account,” Doom Jazz said. “I've already spoken to the Council and turned down a request for an apartment. You're going to be staying with me for a while.”

“Wait, what? Hey! You can't just refuse an entire fucking home on my behalf!”

“Too bad, I already did,” Doom Jazz said. “I told you, I don't trust you, and I'm not going to take my eyes off you until I'm sure you won't try to hurt yourself.”

“That's bullshit!”

Doom Jazz kissed his scowling lips. Henry crossed his arms angrily.

“As for a profession, you should go to the Syndicate's college first,” Doom Jazz said. “Higher education doesn't cost anything for us, and there are remedial courses.”

“Remedial? I'm not retarded.”

“Not intellectually, anyway,” Doom Jazz said. “But never mind that. Syndicate education is much different than Citizen education. Precocious as you are, you'll need to familiarize yourself with the subjects forbidden to Citizens.”

“That's—”

“—fucked up, I know, I know.” Doom Jazz swatted Henry's bottom. “You're going to have to get a new line once you're in the Syndicate. What are you going to do when you can't blame the big, bad Syndicate for all your problems?”

Henry bit his bottom lip, looking away. Doom Jazz was surprised at how deeply the remark had cut him. He kissed him to ease the sting. The news broadcast droned on in the background.

“ _In other news, rumors are swirling that a miracle has occurred here on Perfect 25. So far, the Council has yet to respond, but reports suggest that a Citizen from Island 24 was granted a blessing directly from the gods.”_

Henry shot up and fumbled for the television remote. He turned the volume up, eyebrows raised. Doom Jazz groaned.

“ _If true, this unprecedented event is a reminder of the benevolence of our gods, and the true perfection of Island 25.”_

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“Damn reporters,” Doom Jazz said. “They're going to be all over us once they figure out _you're_ the one that was blessed. I'll have to request more Marshals to guard the clinic entrances, I don't want journalists bothering the patients.”

Henry burst into laughter. Doom Jazz wondered if he was starting to lose it.

“Be careful what you wish for,” Henry said. “This is too much.”

“What do you mean?”

Henry slid down, lying with his head on Doom Jazz's lap. Despite his laughter, there was a bitter look in his dark almond-shaped eyes. _Eyes Kiwami used to get that exact same look, during his rare dark moods. That look … I always got him to drink it away with me. I should have taken the time to just talk to him, instead._

“When I was a kid, I used to dream about my father being in the Syndicate,” Henry confessed. “What Citizen doesn't dream about somehow being let into the Syndicate, right? I thought that if I got his attention, he would come get me and take me away to live forever in these skyscrapers. I would commune with the gods and be powerful and special and … I wouldn't be so lonely. Now that's all happened, except for my father being the one to get me, and it fucking sucks.”

“Present company included?”

“Hm? Oh. No, not … not you.” Henry reached up and stroked the doctor's face. “I didn't mean it about being with you. I like this, whatever the fuck it is. The rest, I could do without.”

“You're just trying to hang onto your anti-Syndicate bullshit,” Doom Jazz said. “I told you, you're going to need a new shtick after tonight. You can't keep blaming the Syndicate for everything that went wrong with you. And you can't keep saying everything about Paradise is bad while you're enjoying the fruits, can you?”

“WhIle eNjoIinG tHe fRuiTs,” Henry mimicked. “Paradise is great for the Syndicate and it sucks for the Citizens, these thoughts can coexist.”

“So think them, but keep them to yourself,” Doom Jazz said. “I mean it, Henry. You've already made enemies of two out of five Council members in record time. Keep screwing around and even I won't be able to protect you.”

“Whatever. I'm just going to be a puppet again, anyway. A puppet of the gods, this time. Yeah, guess I should just be fucking grateful for that.”

“Henry, would you please _shut up_.”

Doom Jazz held the man tightly in his arms and kissed him very hard. Henry tried to keep grumbling between kisses but ended up laughing. Doom Jazz threw him down on the sofa and straddled him. He opened Henry's shirt and let his mouth explore him. Henry yelped and hit at him when the doctor's teeth lightly closed on one of his nipples. Doom Jazz pinned Henry's arms above his head by the wrists. Deliciously helpless, Henry gave himself up to him.

#

“It's cold. Why didn't we just stay home? We were having so much fun at home.”

Doom Jazz forced Henry out some hours after their sofa escapade. Henry was complaining only for forms' sake; he was interested to see more of the Syndicate side of this new Island. Doom Jazz had an arm around his shoulder and he was huddled close to him.

“You're calling my tacky love shack your home already, eh?”

“Yeah, since _someone_ won't let me get my own apartment.”

Doom Jazz took Henry to a studio apartment in another building. There, Henry met Rha and Pso Couture, androgynous twin tailors responsible for fabricating Syndicate fashions. Henry was asked to strip down to his underwear, which he did under Doom Jazz's slyly watchful eye. The twins asked Henry a multitude of questions while they measured him from every conceivable angle.

“What is your favorite—”

“—color?”

“Uh, blue? I guess? I like blue. Anything other than fucking prison orange.”

“Can you feel the weight of the stars in daylight—”

“—or do you prefer to meet their gaze at night?”

“ _Huh_? What does that even mean? I dunno! I guess I prefer daytime? I've spent most of my life in the dark.”

The twins continued to question Henry in this fashion, each finishing the other's sentence. They asked what Henry's favorite god was (he did not like any of them), his ideal pet (he didn't get along with animals), whether he thought the sun laughed or the moon cried (he had no fucking clue), and other seemingly senseless questions. Meanwhile, their hands and measuring tape flew around his bare skin, careful of the bruises on his upper thighs.

“We will send—”

“—the wardrobe—”

“—to your residence, Doctor Doom Jazz.”

Doom Jazz thanked them as Henry dressed. Henry noted that Doom Jazz had the wardrobe charged to his Syndicate account. _Like I'm his new pet or something,_ Henry thought. _Oh well. It's nice to be taken care of for once._

They stopped in at the Masahiro Heavy Industries offices at the Syndicate HQ Building. Doom Jazz checked on the status of his new boat while Henry read pamphlets advertising the company's electronics. Before they left, they ran into Councilor Balthazar Tears. The ram-horned man invited the two to join him for lunch and they left the Syndicate HQ together.

“You must be looking forward to your induction ceremony tonight,” he told Henry. “Have you decided on a name?”

“Huh? Name?”

“Well, it's not a prerequisite,” Doom Jazz said. “But most Syndicate members don't publicly use their full real names. There's power in names.”

“Ohhh so that's why Syndicate names are so fucked up! Er, no offense, Councilor.”

Balthazar just laughed. “The most fucked up thing is, most of us don't even remember our original names anymore.”

“Oh. Well. I don't know.” Henry shrugged. “I'll probably just keep my name as it is.”

“I don't recommend it,” Balthazar said seriously. “You did hear that news blurb about you this morning, didn't you?”

“Yeah.”

“The Council has taken the liberty of erasing your records from Island 24,” Balthazar said. “We thought it prudent to keep from the public the fact that a formerly demon-possessed Citizen that wrecked the last Island is the one who has been blessed by the gods. There are still some in the Syndicate that remember, of course, but the truth has been placed under seal; no one may speak it. However, it would be best if you changed your identity somewhat, to soften those memories. You already look different, since your body was restored. I would suggest changing your name, as well. It doesn't have to be a big change, you could simply cut off your given name, and go by 'Division Kiwami'.”

“Is that why everyone at the vetting trial kept using my father's surname?”

“A reminder of your Syndicate blood makes it easier for the Syndicate to accept you in our ranks,” Balthazar said. “It's a good thing that you look so much like your father. Those eyes that Kiwami had.”

Henry mulled this over as they entered a cozy pub down an alley off one of the main streets. They sat at a booth next to a window, Balthazar opposite Doom Jazz and Henry. Balthazar insisted on having a round of beers while they waited for their food. Henry gulped his down gratefully.

“My father never even acknowledged me,” Henry said. “Isn't it wrong to just take his name like that?”

“Daddy issues,” Doom Jazz said under his breath. He winked when Henry shot him an annoyed frown.

“Your father financially supported you, so I wouldn't say he never acknowledged you at all,” Balthazar pointed out. “He would be proud to know his son received such a blessing, wouldn't he, Doom Jazz?”

“Yeah, I think he would.”

“Division Kiwami,” Henry tested the name. “I could live with that. My mom picked out my first name, though. It would be kind of messed up to just ditch it.”

“You'll always be 'Henry' to me,” Doom Jazz assured him. “It's just for official record and public usage.”

They finished their beers just as the waitress brought their meals and a fresh round. Henry thought he saw an unusual amount of interest in Balthazar's dark violet eyes every time he looked at him. The feeling of being watched for some purpose made a chill run down his spine. He had been made a puppet of a demon, now he was a puppet of Silent Goat; was he also being played by the new Council? They certainly were paying a lot of attention to a former Citizen.

 _I can't trust any of them,_ Henry reminded himself. _If I'm going to be stuck in the Syndicate, I have to remember that. Even Doom Jazz, his interests could change at any moment. The Syndicate members are fickle, elitist assholes. I'll use them as much as possible, and try not to be used too badly by them in return. I'm so sick of being used, but I don't really have any other options right now. I'm a nobody, nothing. I can't do this on my own. I don't have the first fucking clue how to live in the Syndicate._

Henry watched Doom Jazz out of the corners of his eyes. _Besides, he's a damn good fuck. Well, as far as I can tell._

“Is there anything else that I should know about my shiny new Syndicate life?” Henry asked, trying and failing to keep the cynicism out of his voice. He cleared his throat and made a greater effort to be polite. “I appreciate the cover-up, so I don't want to fu—to mess it up.”

“You don't have to watch your language around me, lad,” Balthazar said. “I'm an engineer, and believe me I heard every foul letter under the sun when we thought we had lost control of one of the God Bruisers.”

“God Bruisers?”

“Nuclear missiles,” Balthazar said. “The pride and joy of Masahiro Heavy Industries, other than the Reality Folding Drive. Shame they've never been used.”

“Could just nuke the Citizens, might as well.”

Under the table, Doom Jazz kicked Henry's shin.

“Ow! S-sorry.”

“The missiles were meant for the Betrayers, and only the Betrayers,” Balthazar said. “But the Syndicate has been cowering here in our safe little Paradise Islands for centuries, leaving them unpunished. Ah, but who knows? If what you said about Silent Goat yesterday was true, we may find a use for the God Bruisers yet.”

“You're not serious?” Doom Jazz asked. “What—go to war with the real world?”

“We won't have any other choice, if it comes down to rescuing Silent Goat,” Balthazar said. “But that is Council business, and there is much, much more to discuss before any plans are made. Silent Goat's conduit here must be trained, first of all.”

“What?” Henry choked on his beer, coughed. “Me?”

“Of course,” Balthazar said. “A step up from communing with demons, isn't it?”

“I—I don't want to commune with _anything_ ,” Henry said. “I went through hell for ten years because of that damned ritual! My synapses were fried! I don't want anything to do with celestial communication!”

“You're lying.”

“What?”

Balthazar pointed his fork at Henry. His jovial attitude did not change but his tone brooked no argument. The weight of Masahiro Industries' new leader fell upon Henry fully. He felt as if the room's pressure had increased and shrank into his seat.

“You lie a lot, don't you, lad?” Balthazar said. “That self-inflicted gash on your arm under that bandage is a lie, isn't it, Doom Jazz?”

Henry pulled down his sleeve over the bandage's edge. He frowned at Doom Jazz.

“Don't blame him,” Balthazar said. “It was easy enough to guess what happened after the doc here submitted a request to keep you in his care and you showed up at the vetting trial with that bandage and a death wish. You obviously think that you should die, but you do not truly desire death. A man that wants to die does not eat or drink the way you do. And a man that wants nothing to do with the outer realms doesn't get a spark in his eyes every time it's mentioned.”

“He has your number, doesn't he?” Doom Jazz smirked.

“I lived through the 7th Island Sequence, when the Citizens revolted,” Balthazar said. “So did Doom Jazz. We've seen far more embittered Citizens than you, lad. The problems always stem from jealousy of the Syndicate, and misplaced ambition. You're no better or worse than that average, except that now you have a chance to better yourself. You're not stupid, you're as aware of that as I am. You're griping out of habit but ultimately, you won't waste the opportunity.”

“You Syndicate fu—people—don't pull any punches, do you?”

“We're all too old for bullshit,” Balthazar said with a cheery smile. “So, Henry, here you are. You don't want to die, you love the attention you're getting, and you're very much enjoying being a part of the Syndicate. So why are you lying to yourself and to us?”

“I—”

“You're guilty, isn't that right?” Balthazar cut him off. “You destroyed Island 24. You killed your mother, and thousands of Citizens had to be slaughtered because of you. Yet you survived, and now you're guilty about that. But you're not so guilty that you won't take care of yourself, let alone end your own life.”

Henry felt like a child yet again. He pushed his empty plate away and stared glumly into his pint of beer. He could tell Doom Jazz was enjoying this. _Fucking asshole._

“Go ahead.”

“Go ahead, what?”

“Go ahead and ask me what you want to ask me,” Balthazar said. “I have a meeting soon so I don't have too much more free time. Go on, ask.”

Henry took a deep drink from his glass. Doom Jazz noticed that he was fidgeting with his fingers again, twisting them. He wanted to kiss the little furrow that kept appearing between Henry's eyebrows.

“How do you … people … do it?” Henry asked. “How do you live with yourselves without being guilty? There's the mass kidnappings and mass murder, yeah, but also … you lose people, right? I saw that at the trial on Island 24, even the Syndicate isn't immune to losing their loved ones. So how do you keep going? Why do you even want to?”

“Sometimes, we don't,” Balthazar said. “Admitting that is the first step. Beyond that, there really isn't an answer. Some people keep going for love, others for faith, still others for the simplest pleasures that are plentiful in Paradise. So, what do _you_ want, Henry?”

“I … don't know.”

“I think that you do,” Balthazar said. “And I think that you may be more ambitious than most of the Syndicate. I look forward to seeing what you do with yourself, once you get over this childish reticence.”

Balthazar checked his watch and emptied his glass.

“I'd love to have another round with you, but I have to be on my way,” he said. “I will see you two at the ceremony tonight, Doom Jazz, Henry. May you walk with the gods.”

“And may you reach the moon,” Henry mumbled.

Balthazar nodded at them and left. When the waitress came to take Balthazar's glass, Henry ordered another round of beers. This time, Doom Jazz did kiss the crease in the center of his brow.

“You're learning fast,” Doom Jazz said. “So why are you still frowning? Ego bruised?”

“It's not very fun being treated like the most obvious goldfish in the bowl,” Henry said. “It's even worse that he was right. About everything.”

“You're more of a puppy than a goldfish,” Doom Jazz said. “So, what will you do now? Finally drop that sullen act of yours?”

“I'll just go along with it all,” Henry said. “What else _can_ I do? The Councilor was right, I am curious. I always said that if I were Syndicate, I'd be a big fucking deal. Now, I guess I have to prove it.”

“You're too intense about everything, Henry,” Doom Jazz said. “Relax. You have time, now. You have all the time in Paradise.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.”

Henry drank more beer and his frown finally faded. By the time they left the pub, he was warm and content. He was also a little drunk. He sidled up to Doom Jazz as they walked through the snowy streets. _I always hated couples that went around shoving their PDAs in everyone's faces, and now look at me. The fog of possession is gone but my mind isn't back to normal yet, maybe it never will be. I feel like I'm adrift at sea, and Doom Jazz is a buoy keeping me just afloat enough to stay alive. I don't want to depend on him this much but I can't help it._

“All the palm trees look stupid in the snow,” Henry laughed. “Perfect 25 really wasn't designed for cold weather, so what the fuck is up with this snow?”

“You answered that question yesterday, remember? During that vision?”

“I forgot what I even said.”

“Seriously? You really do need training,” Doom Jazz said. “The Reality Folding Drive is malfunctioning because some of its energy was diverted back to its source, Silent Goat, when he came back to life. So, they're having problems with the weather control system.”

“Too bad your Architect's dead and you can't change the trees out,” Henry said. “Going to be a winter wonder fucking land until you all rescue your precious god.”

“He's your god too, now,” Doom Jazz said. “He blessed you.”

“I thought you were happy about that. You sound almost as pissed off as I am about it.”

“I'm happy you're here, Henry,” Doom Jazz said. “I'm just thinking about what Balthazar Tears said. I didn't realize that your miracle, your visions, could be interpreted as a reason to start a war with the real world.”

“That's me, bringer of doom,” Henry said. “Hey, you convinced me to live. Whatever happens, it's on you, and the gods, and whatever the fuck else. The Council. The Syndicate. I don't care. I just want to have some fun for once in my miserable fucking life.”

“Even if you had died, the gods would have chosen someone else to spread their message,” Doom Jazz said. “You're right, it's not worth worrying about. Not now. So let's enjoy ourselves.”

Doom Jazz picked Henry up and slung him over his shoulder. Henry yelled, protested, laughed. They came to the clinic building and took the elevator up to Doom Jazz's penthouse. Inside, Doom Jazz put him down and kissed him. Once they took off their outerwear, he went to light a fire. Henry collapsed on the sofa.

“Don't you have to work?” he asked. “Or am I your only patient?”

“You _are_ my only patient, as a matter of fact,” Doom Jazz said. “Perfect 25 is brand new, people are happy, the Citizens are adjusting. It's too early for problems, so I have enough time on my hands to deal with you.”

Doom Jazz lifted Henry's head to sit on the sofa, letting it fall on his lap. He kissed him, a hand sliding into his shirt. Henry yawned widely.

“I don't think I have it in me to be 'dealt with' again,” he said. “Are you always turned on?”

“Well, you've been my first on Perfect 25,” Doom Jazz said. “I have a lot of pent-up energy.”

Despite this, Doom Jazz turned on the TV. He settled for stroking Henry's hair. He channel-surfed until Henry told him to leave it on a fairly vulgar animated show. Henry rolled onto his stomach, folding his arms on the doctor's knees and resting his head there.

“Aren't you a bit too old for cartoons?”

“It's not a kids cartoon. I used to get drunk and watch this. It's funny.”

Doom Jazz left it, reminding himself that Henry was not very much older, mentally, than a seventeen-year-old. He did not watch the cartoon, focusing instead on Henry's enjoyment of it. It was nice to see him being carefree for a change. Doom Jazz thought of the decade he had spent restraining, sedating, and experimenting on Henry during his possession. Guilt crept through him. _There's been a lot of that lately,_ he thought. _Ever since the end of the trial, I've felt unsettled by the guilt. Eyes, Akiko, the Day Breaks, Henry. Decades and decades of guilt finally come to take their pound of flesh. Thank the gods that I have a chance to fix something—someone. Because to be honest, sometimes I don't know how to live with the guilt, either._


	5. The Syndicate of Perfect 25

Henry fell asleep eventually, drooling into Doom Jazz's jeans. Doom Jazz shut the TV off and carried him to the bedroom. He left him there to rest before the midnight ceremony, returned to the living room. He trawled the evening newscasts but there was no more word about the supposedly blessed former Citizen. The Council really was sanitizing Henry's story, Doom Jazz thought gratefully. They would have to enjoy the calm before the media storm inevitably came.

While Henry slept, Doom Jazz checked his vitals and drew more blood. He brought the sample down to the clinic on the lower floors. While the tests ran, he went through Henry's old files from Island 24, backed up on his personal drives. Something was bothering him about the entire situation.

 _Perfect 25 is aligning a little too perfectly,_ the doctor thought. _Sin Evergreen has never agreed with the Council, back to Ezequial's era. He helped the first Monserrat end Ezequial's reign when Ezequial fell to madness and murder on Island 3. But then Sin and Monserrat fell out over Monserrat's vision for the next iteration of the Council and Paradise, and he's kept out of Council business ever since. Now, suddenly, he's accepted the position of Leader. At the same time, Henry receives a blessing from the gods, proclaims Silent Goat to be alive, and warns that Paradise will fall unless we go to war with the real world to save Silent Goat, our First God, Creator of Paradise. Sin Evergreen vetted Henry's miracle and message, as did Constellation Bride, and the new leader of Masahiro Heavy Industries, Balthazar Tears. Not only that, but Crimson Acid, a war fiend, also showed up to help Henry's case._

_Henry's case. That boy's first case turned out to be a setup, a scheme of the last Council. Is this one, as well? I can't see how they could possibly fake a miracle, but … it's all too damned perfect. Sin Evergreen, Crimson Acid, and Balthazar Tears are all war-mongers. Henry's message from the gods is a call to war. Am I really supposed to believe it's all a coincidence?_

Doom Jazz fetched the test results. There was no trace of anything suspicious in Henry's blood. He was definitely no longer possessed. In fact, he was incredibly healthy. Doom Jazz turned out the lights in his office and left, the door locking automatically behind him. He took the elevator back up to his penthouse.

Henry was still fast asleep in Doom Jazz's bedroom, curled up in a fetal position on the waterbed. His eyes were moving beneath the lids, and his brow was furrowed again. Doom Jazz kissed his frowning face, ran a hand over his head.

“What am I going to do about you, Henry?” he asked the sleeping younger man. “What am I going to do?”

 _I can't do anything, and I don't want to,_ Doom Jazz thought. He climbed onto the bed, holding Henry in his arms to save him from the waterbed's incessant rocking. Henry reached out and grabbed onto Doom Jazz's shirt. _I helped Love Dies with her investigation on Island 24. I don't regret it, particularly, and it did clear Henry's name. But. I wish that Love Dies wasn't so gods-damned good at her job. I miss them. Sam and Lydia. Akiko 14 … I never thought helping Henry out a little would lead to all that._

_I won't bring these suspicions to anyone. I won't lose Henry the way I lost Eyes and Akiko. Let the gods seal me in the Void before I stand idly by and lose someone else. This is Perfect 25, isn't it? What bullshit lines did the Council feed us about this 'holiday weather'? Something about the purity of snow cleansing the pathway forward? It may be propaganda, but I like the sound of that._

Doom Jazz kissed Henry's mouth, got a sleepy half-kiss in return.

_He's been sleeping a lot but there's no physical reason for it. He must be mentally drained. Poor guy. Ten years of excruciating torture, a terrifying trial, a horrible death, and now this. All of this. Whatever 'this' is. The dreaming might be more than just dreaming, too. If Constellation Bride verified his visions, they must be genuine. There is no way to fake visions like this, especially without any hallucinogenics in his system. None of that means that the gods, or Silent Goat himself, are not conspiring with Sin Evergreen and the others. But who cares? As long as it all keeps Henry alive, here with me, I don't care._

Doom Jazz dozed with Henry's warm presence huddled close for about an hour. The flurries of snow outside the window were lit in blue, pink, and purple by the billboard's flashing screen. The snow thickened as the clock ticked its way towards midnight.

#

“ _The subject is moving again.”_

“ _It's just an autonomous reaction to the electrical stimulus.”_

“ _You've been saying that for the past four months. There was no electrical current applied when it moved just now. I saw it, it moved_ before _the stimulus was applied. This thing … it isn't dead.”_

“ _It's been dead for centuries.”_

“ _It's not dead.”_

“ _It's as dead as your common sense.”_

“ _I know what I saw. You're a fucking kid. You just got clearance. I know about the Great Betrayal. My ancestry goes back to those dark days.”_

“ _Dark days? Wasn't that the name of a movie?”_

“ _Don't be stupid. Life isn't a movie, it's weirder. These aren't just aliens.”_

“ _No? They came down from the fucking stars. What else_ are _they?”_

“ _They're gods.”_

#

Henry stirred violently in his sleep. Doom Jazz woke up when one of his fists hit his face. Startled, he found Henry jerking stiffly, as if he was being electrocuted. Doom Jazz restrained him until the worst of it was over. When he dared, he shook him awake. He was relieved when Henry blinked his dark eyes open, puzzled but unperturbed.

“S'it midnight already?” he yawned. “What happened to your face?”

“Your nightmare happened. It's almost midnight, time to get up.”

“I don't remember dreaming. Huh.” Henry sat up, stretched. “Payback for all the bruises you gave me, I guess. Karma's a bitch.”

“There's no such thing as karma. Paradise has proven that, don't you think?”

“Don't ruin the moment.”

Henry sat up and kissed the bruise on Doom Jazz's jaw. Doom Jazz rubbed his back, pressed his lips to Henry's cheek. Henry threw a leg over his waist, straddling him. His energy had apparently recovered: he wound his slim body around the doctor, hands and mouth freely going at him.

“Bit of a sadist too, are you?” Doom Jazz chuckled. He hated to do it, but he grabbed Henry by the shoulders and held him back. “Sorry, but it's time to get ready for the ceremony. Come on, let's go.”

Doom Jazz did not wait for Henry to comply. He folded his arms beneath Henry's buttocks and stood with Henry lifted on them. Like a little boy, Henry wrapped his arms and legs around him.

“Do I have to go to this fucking thing?” he asked. “Let's just stay home. This place is gaudy as hell but it's comfortable. I want to break your stupid mirrored ceiling, though.”

“We have to go, Henry. And you better not break my ceiling.”

 _When did I become a daddy?_ Doom Jazz wondered. He shoved Henry into the bathroom, hoping the guy wouldn't fall asleep on the floor. _Maybe karma does exist and this is my punishment for never being there for Eyes._

Henry was still half-asleep when he emerged from the bathroom. Doom Jazz straightened his clothes for him, smoothed out the wrinkles. He led him to the living room, Henry yawning all the way. Doom Jazz had to help him into his sneakers and coat. He did not like the dazed look in Henry's eyes.

“I think I _was_ dreaming but I don't remember,” Henry said. “The memories are slipping out of my hands again, jumping in and out. I think that I didn't like it. It hurt.”

“It's okay, Henry. You're safe now.”

Henry nodded but he was fading. Doom Jazz put his arm around him protectively. Henry almost fell asleep during the elevator ride down. He shrank from the blast of cold, snowy air when they exited the building. Doom Jazz held him closer.

“I want to go home.”

“Soon, Henry.”

Henry buried his face in the doctor's coat. Doom Jazz led him through the flurry of snow. _This isn't right,_ he thought. _He's completely untrained, already damaged from ten years of demonic possession, and he's been made a conduit again._ Was _I right to save him from suicide? What if all I'm doing is forcing him to suffer again? A year after he was first brought to me, possessed, I considered killing him. The classic mercy killing. But I never could have done it. Even before knowing he was Eyes Kiwami's kid, I couldn't have killed him. All he did was suffer more and help along Carmelina Silence's insane plot … which got six people executed … Am_ I _the one that's wrong? Gods, I hope not. I would hate to see a world where Henry's cynicism is proven right._

Henry balked at the entrance to the Opulent Ziggurat. His gaze was wild. The cold made his nose red.

“I didn't _mean to_ start that fire,” he babbled. “It's not my fault that I can see the patterns. I just want to know more! You can't arrest me!”

“Henry. Henry!” Doom Jazz shook him. “Wake up! Hey, look at me.”

Henry shook his head, held it in both hands. When he looked up at Doom Jazz again, he was beginning to focus. He yawned and rubbed his eyes.

“Doc? Where are we?”

“We're at the temple,” Doom Jazz said. “It's almost time for your induction ceremony. It won't be very long, Henry. There's nothing to be afraid of.”

Henry nodded, still a bit confused. He was led up the stairs to the temple. Torches burned even through the flurries of snow, throwing spots of tiny shadows upon the steps. His mind kept returning to the silhouettes in the room that was lit all in blue, those ant-like little things that kept hurting him … No, not him … hurting … another …

Henry yawned deeply as they entered the temple. The instant warmth brought him back to reality. The dream was gone and he was glad of it. He stretched his arms inside, peeling off his coat. Doom Jazz took it from him and led him down the pristine stone hallway. He was being gentler than usual, though Henry could not fathom why.

Mercifully, the people gathered in the temple's grand chamber were few: Lady Love Dies, Crimson Acid, Balthazar Tears, Constellation Bride, and Sin Evergreen. Doom Jazz ushered Henry to stand with them beneath the looming statue of Silent Goat in the center of the chamber. The metallic scent of blood filled his nose, mixing with the ever-present scent of incense. Henry was both frightened and impressed.

 _I spent my youth being forced to worship these gods, like all the Citizens,_ he thought. _Knowing I could never gain their favor, or even their notice, I was forced to recite the prayers, bleed, fake my faith. Now I have the notice of the gods, for some reason or other. There are three Council members here to welcome me into the Syndicate. My lover is by my side, a Syndicate lover. It's perfect._

 _It's all_ too _perfect._

_But what the fuck? I might as well go with it._

“Cosmic night to you, Doom Jazz, Henry my lad,” Balthazar greeted them.

“Illumined eternity, Councilor,” Doom Jazz returned politely. “Nicolina Rose and Armons Monserrat decided to pass on this blessed event, did they?”

“Big fucking surprise,” Henry said. “Does that make my miracle, I don't know … lesser?”

“Don't worry about it,” Balthazar Tears said. “We haven't performed one of these ceremonies in years but it hasn't failed us yet.”

Sin Evergreen wrapped a ceremonial robe of black velvet around Henry's shoulders. Henry looked up at him, stricken by his presence again. All the Council members had their own intimidating auras, but the Leader was in a class of his own. Henry usually had a good sense of people, but he failed to read anything in the man. He caught a whiff of pine, a glimmer of care in his eyes, and that was all. He frightened Henry, although Henry could not quite say why.

Constellation Bride stood a bit apart from them all. She had been staring with her usual faraway gaze at the statues around the chamber. Now, she turned to Henry. Her starry blue eyes were distant, always sad, and curious when she studied Henry.

Henry was led before an onyx pyramid sculpture on a pedestal by Sin Evergreen. The others fell in on either side of them. The solemnity made him want to laugh but he did not dare. As his drowsiness faded, his anxiety increased.

Sin Evergreen instructed Henry to repeat after him. The phrases were in a language that Henry did not recognize but he did his best to repeat them. The language tickled the back of his skull as it danced off his tongue as if it had a will of its own. Shapes with too much sentience appeared in the flames in the corner of his eyes and their reflections in the polished stone. The luminescent statue of the First God Silent Goat glowed and grew in Henry's vision, filling the space. The incense smoke was making him dizzy.

Henry was gently pushed to his knees. Sin Evergreen lifted his arms up, palms up. He removed a ceremonial dagger from his robes. He asked Henry if he consented to the offering, in their plain language, and Henry consented. He was so distracted by the shifting visual sensations that he hardly felt the blade slicing across both his palms. Sin Evergreen helped him up, to the pyramid, to offer his blood to the bowl before it.

As his blood flowed, Henry's head began to spin. He stared up at the statue of Silent Goat and his dream came flooding back. He saw the god, not perfected in stone, but a husk strung up in a blue-lighted laboratory. He heard the voices of the people who tore at him and tried to consume his power, his secrets. Centuries dead, but now he had awakened. Now, he felt his torment. Now, he demanded Paradise answer his call.

Henry fell to his knees, bloody palms on the floor. Fear, love, hatred, despair, sorrow, emotions all along the spectrum of human comprehension muddled within him. He cried out, paralyzed by the torrent of sensations. His mind felt like it was being shredded. The familiarity of that particular feeling shattered him completely.

Doom Jazz's teeth were set on edge by Henry's screams. He waited them out, as Sin Evergreen recited the last lines of the ceremony. _When I was inducted into the Syndicate, I was afraid. But I had already been broken by physical torture, the spirituality of it was empowering. Henry's only ever known psychic torture. This is too much for him._

Sin Evergreen knelt before Henry and placed his hands on his shoulders. He lifted Henry up, held his tear-stained face in both hands. He pressed two fingers to the center of Henry's forehead and Henry went still. Light spread from Sin's fingers to Henry's skin, across his entire body. The room seemed to shudder around them. The guests had to close their eyes against the illumination.

When the light faded, Henry's eyes rolled into his head. He collapsed, caught by Sin Evergreen. Doom Jazz moved forward but Sin held a hand up. Henry was shuddering violently in his arm, head whipping back and forth. Words in a strange language escaped his lips.

“This is too much!” Doom Jazz protested. “His mind has barely recovered from Island 24, he can't take this. I'm going to sedate him, now.”

“Wait,” Sin Evergreen said. “Stella, please listen.”

“I am listening.” Constellation Bride cocked her head. “It is the language of … the dead cities of the farthest reaches … Mmm, even I will need time to translate this. Incredible.”

“It is going to hurt him,” Doom Jazz said tightly.

“We must listen,” Sin Evergreen said. “He is a true conduit to the First God.”

Doom Jazz shook his head. He paced, running his hands over his buzzed hair, his mohawk. Crimson Acid put a hand on his shoulder but he shook it off. Unable to stand it, he rushed over to Sin and Henry, kneeling down. He took a syringe from his pocket and bit off the cap.

“Your conduit won't be any good burned out,” he said. “He needs to be protected.”

Sin Evergreen frowned disapprovingly. Doom Jazz ignored the Leader. He pushed back the robe and rolled Henry's sleeve up, plunged the syringe into a vein. _Henry's right, this is barely any different from when he was possessed. I must have injected him thousands of times over those ten years._

Henry stopped jerking by degrees. Doom Jazz pulled him from Sin, holding him jealously in his own grasp. Sin Evergreen stood, brushing himself off. He declared the ceremony completed, and formally announced Henry Division Kiwami as Division Kiwami, Syndicate member.

Henry was in no state to enjoy the induction. Doom Jazz picked him up in his arms, for practicality rather than pleasure this time. Henry was still babbling, both in their normal language and the alien one.

“He's burning up,” Doom Jazz muttered. “He was too damaged by the demonic possession. He needs a lot of training and mental strengthening before he can function as your conduit. His mind, his _soul_ , is too traumatized for further celestial communication. I'm going to put him on medication until he's strong enough.”

“That could take years,” Crimson Acid said. “If what he said yesterday at the vetting trial was true, Paradise might not even have a single year, let alone—”

“If Silent Goat has somehow survived all these centuries, he can survive a bit longer!” Doom Jazz snapped. “I won't let Henry die again.”

Crimson Acid walked up to him but Sin Evergreen put a hand on her shoulder. She turned her furry head to him, looked back at Doom Jazz, and backed off. Lady Love Dies watched these exchanges closely.

“It's fine,” Sin Evergreen said. “It's fine. Doom Jazz is doing his job, and he is right. Henry—No, Division Kiwami now—he must be protected. Take care of him, doctor.”

“I will.”

Henry was coming to, although he was still mentally reeling from the ceremony. Doom Jazz cautiously set him on his feet, an arm under his shoulder to keep him up. He led him out of the main chamber, tossing their robes on the floor.

“Is it gone, doctor?” Henry asked. “The demon, is it gone?”

“It's gone forever, Henry,” Doom Jazz comforted him. “It's all right, it's gone.”

Doom Jazz helped Henry back into his coat. Crimson Acid and Love Dies had followed. They also donned their outerwear.

“I never figured you for the daddy type,” Love Dies said.

“Neither did I,” Doom Jazz said. “He's Eyes' kid, Love Dies.”

“And that's all this is?”

“No, that's not all this is.” Doom Jazz rustled a hand over Henry's lank hair. “I care about him. I care about him a lot.”

“Oh. Oh, I see.”

Love Dies and Crimson Acid shared a look. Doom Jazz had been with men before, but never a man like Henry Division Kiwami. The doctor preferred independent, mature people. He hated to waste effort caring for anyone other than himself. Neither woman had any clue where this nurturing side had suddenly emerged from.

Doom Jazz could tell what they were thinking but he did not care. He bid them both goodnight in typical Syndicate fashion, then left the stuffy temple. The cold air was welcome, and revived Henry somewhat.

“That was strange,” Henry said. “I feel strange.”

“It's the power you've been granted,” Doom Jazz explained. “You'll feel a bit cosmic for a while, but don't worry. I've sedated you, and I'll keep you on psychic suppressors.”

“You think I could get possessed again, don't you?”

“I don't think we can take any chances,” Doom Jazz said. “You're highly susceptible to astral influence, and you've already been damaged by psychic invasion. But I _will not_ let that happen again, Henry, okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Thank you, doctor.”

“You're safe with me, Henry. I promise.”


	6. Don't Think Twice (Just Another Day In Paradise)

Henry fell into a deep sleep the night of the induction ceremony. After his second straight day of not waking, Doom Jazz brought him down to the clinic and installed him in a private room. His vitals were normal, he was simply unconscious. Sometimes, Doom Jazz could see him dreaming. Sometimes, he cried out and flailed about in the bed. Other than putting him on intravenous sustenance, there was little Doom Jazz could do.

Seven days passed, in which Doom Jazz grew increasingly infuriated with the Council. Whether Henry's survival was a miracle or not, he hated the way they planned to use him as a conduit to Silent Goat. More than anything, he was frustrated to be relegated back to helpless idleness after finally feeling essential to another human being's life after so many years.

Two months had passed since Island 24 was destroyed. On the evening of this dubious anniversary, Doom Jazz and Lady Love Dies were having a drink in his office. Henry lay on the cot, having been moved there for his weekly battery of tests.

“Constellation Bride says that it's normal for the uninitiated to need a rest after receiving such a vision,” Love Dies said. “Even priests and priestesses in training will sometimes fall into a coma after connecting with a god.”

“No priest or priestess in training was ever recovering from demonic possession,” Doom Jazz said. “Why do you think anyone possessed by a demon is immediately sentenced to execution? The psychic damage is unsustainable. Henry is the first case of a person being allowed to live after being possessed. This is uncharted territory, Love Dies.”

“Well, there's no one better to handle that than you.” Love Dies sipped her drink. “Speaking of which, what is this thing that you have with Henry? You're together?”

“I slept with him,” Doom Jazz said. “I was his first, turns out. You don't really get a chance to fuck around much when a demon is raping your soul.”

“No, I suppose not.” Love Dies glanced over at the cot. “He's hardly your type, is he?”

“I like cute guys, sometimes.”

“His personality … ”

“He's an obnoxious little prick sometimes, yeah,” Doom Jazz said affectionately. “He just needs a father figure, someone responsible.”

“And that's _you_?”

“You don't have to sound _that_ shocked, Love Dies,” Doom Jazz said. “What can I say? I feel older since coming to Perfect 25. I lost too much on Island 24 to go back to living the same way—at least, for now.”

“They're calling Island 24 the Sequence of indulgence and subterfuge, doomed by demons and the vanity of the Council,” Love Dies said. “There is unrest in the Syndicate, people whisper discontent with the Council's leadership. There are those that say Carmelina Silence was a victim of archaic Council laws, that she should have been granted a Council seat despite her family's history. Others believe that Judge is corrupt, and that I should never have been brought out of exile and given so much power.”

Doom Jazz tried to hide his silence by taking a drink. Love Dies noticed.

“Do you agree with them?”

“I'm still not too keen on politics, Love Dies,” Doom Jazz said. “I'm not about to challenge the entire system. I think that it is time to reexamine Paradise and its laws. How do _you_ feel about it? You haven't spoken much about the trial.”

“I'm still mourning it, to be honest,” Love Dies said. “I don't regret finding the truth, I could never regret that. My purpose is to uncover the truths of Paradise and under Judge's guidance, bring the guilty to justice. However.”

Love Dies took a long drink, and Doom Jazz refilled her glass.

“I wish the truth hadn't been so hard,” she said. “For all the wrong that was done, to Henry and to the Council and to everyone else, I would have spared them if I could have. It's never pleasant, pulling the trigger on someone that you don't even hate. But I never thought that pulling it on someone you love … would feel like that. I never even considered that I would ever have to. Rather naive of the 'investigation freak', isn't it?”

“You're not the only one that's been blind,” Doom Jazz said. “I let Eyes Kiwami and Akiko 14 suffer right next to me, never even seeing it until it was too late for them both. Every Island Sequence, we Syndicate members try to convince ourselves that we reset, too. We change our style, our homes, parts of our lifestyle … but it's always us, Love Dies. We have the same hearts and souls as we've had for hundreds of years. We can't reset our personal reality the way the Reality Folding Drive resets Paradise. Maybe it's time that we stop pretending that we can.”

“I never thought you'd say something that deep,” Love Dies said. “After all these years, you're still full of surprises, Doom Jazz.”

“Thank the gods for small blessings. I was wondering if I was getting boring.”

“Never.”

A noise from the other side of the room interrupted them. Doom Jazz set his glass down on his desk and made his way over to Henry's cot. Henry stirred listlessly, then opened his eyes. His gaze traveled the room, resting at last on Doom Jazz. Before the doctor could speak, he sat up and threw his arms around him. Doom Jazz chuckled, sitting on the edge of the cot beside him.

 _He really is changing,_ Love Dies thought as her old friend held Henry close in his arms. _I've never seen him be so tender with someone, not even during sex. It's not just that man's body he's cherishing, it's something more. I think that he's falling love with_ him _. It would be easy to blame this on Doom Jazz losing Akiko 14, or his old friendship with Henry's father, but there is still something more than all that. Well, I hope they can be happy for a while, even if love always dies in the Syndicate eventually._

“What happened?” Henry asked. “I remember the induction ceremony, but … everything went strange at the end. It wasn't the demons, was it? I heard voices and—”

“No, no, shh. No demons, Henry,” Doom Jazz reassured him. “You had a vision of Silent Goat. He spoke through you—at least, that's what Constellation Bride says. She's deciphered the message, you can read it for yourself when you're better.”

“I already know what he said,” Henry said softly. He hugged himself, bowing his head. “I felt him, locked away in the real world. He's alone and chained and being tortured—like I was. If Paradise does not fulfill its original purpose and save him, he will withdraw his energy from this place and all will be destroyed. This isn't a punishment or an act of vengeance against us, it's simply a matter of survival. The old debt is being called in.”

“That's quite a large debt to pay,” Love Dies said. “Saving any of the gods from the real world would mean all-out war with the Betrayers.”

“Paradise was never supposed to be this fucking resort town,” Henry said hoarsely. He looked from Doom Jazz to Love Dies. “The Council, Monserrat, he … he lied. He spent _centuries_ lying! That's what drove Ezequial mad in the first place, realizing that none would ever accept Paradise's true purpose. That's what drove a rift between the first Monserrat and Sin Evergreen. That's what The Witness to the End saw before _he_ went mad, too. Paradise has lost its purpose. This is _not_ what Silent Goat intended for Paradise when he blessed the Syndicate with his last power.”

“If Paradise isn't supposed to be what it is, then what _is_ it supposed to be?” Love Dies asked.

“It was only ever supposed to be one thing: a war machine.”

Doom Jazz and Love Dies shared a worried look. Henry rubbed his temples hard. He was very pale and had broken out into a sweat.

“Well, that's all for the Council to decipher,” Doom Jazz said. “Those visions almost burned you out, Henry. I have you on suppressors that will limit your ability to communicate with astral beings. You need to rest and heal and train before you have anything to do with the gods again. It's a miracle you're still all right after all you've been through.”

“I'm not all right.” Henry scrubbed at his eyes but tears welled in them again. “I don't feel the gods anymore but I _know_ they're out there. Silent Goat's near-dead will is … I feel it, inside me, driving me, this alien energy. My mind will never be fully my own, will it? The d—The demon, it … it _broke_ me, and now the pieces are held together by-by this g-g-gooood!”

Henry hugged himself more tightly, doubled over by sobs. Doom Jazz wanted to comfort him, but he could not argue the truth of Henry's words. He embraced him and stroked his back, feeling useless again.

 _He's dangerous,_ Love Dies realized. She looked away, drawing a deep breath. The weight of the gun on her hip came to her attention. _Someone so shattered and weak-willed having a mind that open to the cosmos is a hazard to all of Paradise. He could let demons in again. He could be deceived by Silent Goat. If his visions lead us to war, hundreds will die, perhaps thousands. He's a mere child compared to most of us in the Syndicate, but he could destroy Paradise as we know it._

Love Dies fetched her glass and took a deep drink. _But he is under the protection of the Council now. He is Syndicate. I'd rather not kill him, and right now, I wouldn't be justified to. All we can do is wait and see what happens. Instead of watching him, I'll have to keep my eye on what this new Council uses him for. He's been used enough, it would be cruel to let him be made into a pawn again. Still, even on his own … Division Kiwami … what the hell are you going to do?_

“I think that's it for me,” Love Dies said. “I usually save my last drink of the night to share with Crimson.”

Doom Jazz was too distracted by Henry to care much about her departure. They bid one another a good night, then she left. Glad of their privacy, Doom Jazz focused on trying to find the words to console Henry. His mind drew a complete blank.

“I'm sorry,” Henry murmured. “It's like all I ever do anymore is fucking cry.”

“There's nothing wrong with that,” Doom Jazz said. “You've been through more than anyone should.”

“I'm sick of it,” Henry sighed. “I'm so sick of fucking crying. I hate all of this.”

“ _All_ of it?”

Doom Jazz brought his lips to Henry's, tasting tears. At first the younger man drew back, but then he melted into the kiss. Doom Jazz felt him draw a small, gasping breath. He had quieted when he withdrew, brushing the last of his tears from his eyes.

“W-well maybe not a-all of it,” he said through shaky breaths. He inhaled deeply, let his breath out, and sniffled. “Not all of it.”

“How do you feel?” Doom Jazz asked. “Do you need to rest more? Does your head hurt?”

“No, there's no pain, for once,” Henry said. “My body feels like jelly. And I … I'm fucking starving.”

“That's a good sign,” Doom Jazz said. “Here, let's get this IV out and get you home.”

“Home? With you?”

“Yeah. With me.”

Henry smiled and nodded. Doom Jazz stood, preparing an alcohol pad and a plaster. He removed the IV, swabbed the bloody little mark it left, and stuck the plaster on. He helped Henry down from the cot. Henry wobbled, gripping one of Doom Jazz's metal arms for support.

“My muscles are like rubber,” he said. “How long was I out?”

“A week.”

“A whole fucking week?!”

“A whole fucking week.”

Henry managed to get to the bathroom on his own. When he returned to the office, Doom Jazz had a bag of clothes ready for him. He stripped off the hospital gown and got dressed. At last, they headed upstairs to Doom Jazz's penthouse.

The penthouse had changed during Henry's week in bed. The pool table, jukebox, dartboard, purple sofa, and bar sign had been relegated to the den. The kitchen island was gone, replaced by a round dining table and two cushioned chairs.

“You redecorated for me? I'd say 'you shouldn't have', but that love shack shit really was awful.”

Doom Jazz ruffled his hair, ignoring the remark. He was glad to see Henry's normal, bratty self returning. He left Henry to check out the new furniture and headed for the kitchen. While he was preparing two ready-meals, Henry drifted over and sat at the new dining table. His dark eyes followed the doctor for a time.

“What?”

“Hm? Oh, I … I'm just … ”

“Don't like the new stuff, either?”

“No! No, it's great,” Henry said. “I was just thinking … It's fucking corny, but … I'm glad to be back here. When I woke up, I thought that I was back on Island 24. I thought you would suppress the demon and send me back to prison, that all of this was some cruel dream the demon gave me. I don't like what the gods are doing to me, but I _don't_ want to go back to the Void. I don't want to die. I'm scared, but I want to live. And I … shit. I want to live with you, okay? There, I said it.”

“That's good, because I—” Doom Jazz came over and kissed Henry deeply. “—am not—” He pressed his lips in a smaller kiss to Henry's lips. “—letting you out of my sight.”

Henry blushed. He folded his arms on the table and hid the bottom half of his face in them. Doom Jazz kissed the top of his head and returned to the oven.

“So I'm officially Syndicate now?”

“Yes, you are, Division Kiwami.”

“What should I do now?”

“Whatever you want to, Henry.”

“Come on,” Henry sighed. “I have no fucking clue how any of this works.”

“Want me to play daddy for you again?”

Henry did not deny it. Doom Jazz got their meals out and served them. Henry was still a bit woozy so he served club soda instead of wine with the meal. Henry picked at his food at first, then proceeded to wolf it down.

“I told you before, you should go to the Syndicate's college once you're strong enough,” Doom Jazz advised. “Catch up on Syndicate education through the remedial courses, then see what interests you. Or, if you want, you can help me work in the clinic.”

“I don't think so,” Henry said. “Helping people isn't my thing, and I hate being hands-on with them. I don't have to get a job so soon, do I?”

“Your credit will last a while, and you can stay with me as long as you like,” Doom Jazz said. “Why? Do you have something against an honest day's work?”

“Honest,” scoffed Henry. “The Syndicate doing whatever they want, while the Citizens are funneled into … ”

Henry broke off in the middle of his complaint. He frowned for a moment, then shook his head.

“Forget it.”

“Forget it?” Doom Jazz echoed in surprise. “Are you sure you're feeling all right?”

“There's no use bitching about the gods-damned system right now,” Henry said. “It's going to get a whole lot more fucked up before it _maybe_ gets better.”

“Do you think that it can get better?”

“I don't know. Maybe.” Henry shrugged. “I don't want to talk about it. None of that is in my control now, so I'm just going to put it all out of my fucking mind.”

“Good for you,” Doom Jazz said. “It's crowded enough in there, I suspect.”

“Understatement of a fucking lifetime.” Henry chewed thoughtfully. “So, I guess I'll try the Syndicate college. Can't be any worse than the fucking Citizen brainwashing schools. I always had a talent for forbidden subjects.”

“And it won't be illegal for you to study them anymore.”

“That's something,” Henry said. “Hope the teachers aren't assholes, though.”

“They're professors, Henry,” Doom Jazz said. “You're the one that has to learn to behave yourself. If you don't, daddy might have to give you a spanking.”

“You'd threaten me with violence after all I've been through?”

“What can I say? I'm just another 'Syndicate asshole'.”

Henry laughed, shaking his head. They enjoyed the rest of their meal in pleasant quiet.

#

Henry woke the next morning in Doom Jazz's arms. The doctor had been respectful of his tired body, gently pleasuring him until he fell asleep. He was still snoozing. Henry suspected that Doom Jazz had spent some sleepless nights by his bedside; the thought touched him in a way even their physical intimacy did not. He leaned over Doom Jazz, kissing his cheek, neck, chest. He rested atop him for a while, calmed by the steady heaving of his chest. Above them was an abstract geometrical chandelier, the mirrored ceiling gone. Daylight washed in through the blinds, first indigo, then azure, and now pure, snowy white.

The morning was cold and Henry did not know how to change the penthouse temperature. He found that his wardrobe had arrived, and Doom Jazz had divided his own bedroom closet in two to fit them. There were pajamas in a dresser and Henry chose a flannel set. He was still not ready to begin his new Syndicate life, he wanted only to hide away here with his lover for a while.

Once showered and dressed, Henry returned to the bedroom. He raised the blinds and gazed out at the city. The majestic buildings of light-colored stone were thinner and more angular than Island 24's, their wider windows glimmering blue and silver. There were more neon strips, dull in the daylight, and many more electronic billboards and public television screens. At night, the beige stone was awash in an electronic rainbow of blue, purple, and pink. Henry could see the shorter, stockier buildings of the Citizen district in the far distance, nestled in the shadow of grand mountains. In the east, an empty beach boasted statues facing out to the sea and towering obelisks of black stone. Everything was ghostly pale beneath the falling snow.

 _It's fitting. Island 25 is going to be the Sequence of a harsh winter,_ Henry thought. _Nothing is going to be the same after this long, cold season. I burned Island 24 down, and now … I'm going to be a part of the plan that freezes Paradise in a winter of war. Why me? Why the fuck do I have to be a part of all this bullshit? I should have burned that fucking book, the Grimoire of Majidah. I should have left the old Council to find a new pawn. I should kill myself now, I probably could find some way to, and let the new Council find another pawn. But I won't. I already know that I won't. Is this fate? Or is it something inherent in me? Does it even matter? One puppet or another, who cares? The fate written by the gods in inevitable._

Henry was lost in his thoughts, so he was surprised when Doom Jazz's arms encircled him. Although the metal was cold, Henry gripped onto his hands tightly. Doom Jazz leaned down and kissed his cheek.

“Things look different from the top,” Henry said. “It makes it easy to forget how things are, how they work, when all you see is the city like this. Is that also why you like to live on the ocean? To look out at the vastness and forget?”

“You're pensive today,” Doom Jazz said. “I'm done forgetting, Henry. I'm done running away. I don't think you'll ever really forget, either. Will you?”

“I need something to blame for my problems, right?”

“I didn't mean to hurt you when I said that, you know.”

“No, you were right,” Henry said. “Doesn't mean I'm wrong, but … doesn't mean I'm blameless, either. I get it. I get it all now.”

“And?”

“And I can live with it,” Henry said. “I think that I can finally, _finally_ live with it.”

Henry turned around and looked up at Doom Jazz. The doctor sat him on his robotic arms, lifted him up so their faces were level. Henry rested his arms on Doom Jazz's shoulders and kissed him.

_I can live with it … because it's all going to hell again, anyway. And maybe after that, just maybe, something better can be built instead._

**The End**

**[ ? ]**


End file.
